Hurt
by gf7
Summary: JJ and Emily find themselves in the hands of a local lunatic whose idea of a good time is to make friends cause each other bodily harm in order to survive. This one's going to leave a mark. Violence and language.
1. Chapter 1

Em

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a pretty dark piece here. There might be some graphic descriptions of violence in later chapters. Coarse language will also run throughout. Please be forewarned.**

**This is primarily a JJ/Em friendship/in danger piece, but the rest of the team is very much involved. Thanks for the read. Any and all feedback is appreciated.**

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It's cold and she's freezing, but at least she's alive. That's what she tells herself. She thinks that maybe if this wasn't so damned scary, she would almost laugh.

It's unbelievable, almost absurd, this whole thing.

The shivers keep her from laughing.

She thinks maybe that will come later, but it won't be mirth. It might be delusion.

She thinks that by then she might be long past gone.

She wonders what the hallucinations will be like.

When she had her wisdom teeth removed as a child, she remembers dreaming of dancing gorillas. When she had surgery to put pins in her badly broken ankle at the end of a soccer season when she was fifteen, she remembers teaching a forest how to sing "Let It Be."

Something tells her that these hallucinations will be far worse.

"JJ?" a voice says. She turns slightly and winces, her body reacting to the pain and the cold.

And the heat. She feels that, too.

But it's her blood that's hot.

The blood that should be inside her, but isn't.

"Shh," she whispers, putting her hand out. "We're okay."

She's lying. They're so far from okay that it's ridiculous.

"I see colors," her companion slurs out. "Do you see colors?" Her hand lifts up and waves in the air.

"No," Jennifer Jareau answers softly.

"I'm so tired."

"I know," JJ replies, her words disappearing into a coughing fit. She winces in pain, her injured ribs sending fire up through her.

She feels so heavy, so worn out.

In her defense, the fact that they're locked inside a walk-in freezer isn't helping things.

Cold is an understatement. Assuming they survive this, pneumonia seems inevitable.

Not too long ago she wondered if either of them would be able to live with the guilt and horror of what they'd been forced to do.

She'd wondered if they'd ever be able to look at each other again.

Now, as another shiver whips its way through her lithe frame, she thinks maybe they won't have to worry about it.

She thinks about the gun.

She looks over at her friend, sees a violent tremor take hold.

She knows that this won't be pretty if they try to hold out.

"I want to sleep," Emily slurs.

"No."

The word comes before she can stop it and even she's a bit surprised by it. After all, wouldn't it be merciful to just let her fade? Let her not feel this?

Yes. Merciful.

But in the end, not her.

"No sleeping, Em."

She crawls over, pulls Emily against her and wraps her arms tight around the taller woman's abdomen. It hurts her terribly to do so, but she wants to give(and take) whatever warmth she can.

Whatever comfort.

"Come on, stay with me," she pleads. "Stay with me."

She's not ready to give up.

Not yet.

* * *

_EARLIER THAT SAME DAY._

It starts like most days. Begrudgingly, a bit sloppily and with black coffee. The coffee is hideously bad this morning, but she inhales three cups of it greedily, thankful for the caffeine.

Her dreams had been terrible the previous evening and she's more disturbed by them than she cares to admit.

She hates dreaming. Hates waking up slicked in sweat.

She doesn't remember exactly what she dreamed about, but she thinks it had to do with one of the many cases that came across her desk the evening before.

She knows she's not alone in her nightmares, but she has no desire to share them. Not because they're her secret, but because she simply doesn't want to relive them.

"Hey, you okay, JJ?" she hears a voice say. The voice is a note too high for her ears on this overcast late winter morning and so she reaches again for the coffee pot. As she does, she steals a quick glance at her watch – it's about fifteen minutes after eight.

"Hey," she finally answers, between sips. She scowls as she accidentally spills some of it on her white dress shirt. She looks up and meets the eyes of her colleague and friend, Emily Prentiss. "Yeah, fine. Kinda." She dabs at her shirt.

"You didn't return my call last night."

"Sorry?" Jennifer Jareau replies, wondering if she can actually get away with this.

"Uh huh. Everything okay?"

"Yup." She says it with a smile that doesn't quite meet her eyes.

Emily tries to gently change the subject. "So you and Will were…" She moves her body just a bit, smirking, her intent clear. It occurs to JJ that Emily is more awake and friendly than she usually is at this time of morning and that if she cared to, she could quite easily turn the questioning around on her friend.

Perhaps another time.

"No, no, no," JJ laughs instead. "None of that. He's out of town. He took Henry to see his relatives and besides, Will's strictly hands off for awhile. At least until Henry's done…"

"Whoa, nuh uh," Morgan says as he approaches. He spins around and tries to retreat.

The girls share a confused look for a moment and then come to the same understanding of what just occurred. Neither of them can let it pass without comment.

"You know, Derek, " Prentiss grins as she steps towards him. "She does have breasts." She draws out the last word longer than is necessary, making it just a little bit scandalous.

"Oh, I'm well aware," he answers. He drops himself down into his chair, tries to kick back. Tries to play cool.

"You are?" JJ says, eyebrow up. She finds that harassing Morgan brings her out of the funk she's been in ever since she woke up. And that he's blushing now, well that makes her just about downright giddy. "Derek, I never knew…"

"No, no, no," he says, shaking his head. Then. "Hotch."

"What about Hotch?" JJ asks, eyebrow up, confused.

"Apparently Morgan's aware that I have breasts, too," Aaron Hotchner asks, voice dry. He appears from behind them, file in hand. He looks up just long enough to smirk slightly and then his eyes go back down to the file.

He still doesn't miss the fact that now all three agents are blushing. That he enjoys this as much as he does is his secret, but not one that he keeps very well.

"Oh my God," Prentiss is the first to say. "I need coffee."

"JJ drank it all," Morgan grouses. He looks up at Hotch, who is still standing nearby. "Case?"

"No, just paperwork," Hotch tells them. "It's catch-up day. I expect everyone to clear out their in-boxes by the time they go home. And no handing it off to Reid. He's already trying to figure out where the stack on his chair came from."

A guilty look passes between the trio, but none of them cop to it.

"Uh huh," Hotch mutters, before turning and heading back up towards his office. It's amazing he gets this because he never looks up from the file he's reading.

"I need coffee," Prentiss repeats again just as the door to Hotch's office closes. She turns to JJ. "You're buying me coffee."

"Me? Why me?"

"Because somehow, this is your fault."

"I agree with that," Morgan chimes in. "I'll take a tall black coffee. Strong as hell." He accents it with a smirk and a wink. It's a little bit suggestive even though he's suggesting nothing.

It's just Morgan being Morgan.

"Fine," JJ sighs, terribly put upon. Then she reaches out and grabs Emily's arm. "But you're coming with me."

Prentiss considers declining, but then considers the stack of files on her desk that she didn't manage to slide into Reid's pile. Anywhere, but here seems like a great idea about now.

As they're leaving, JJ leans over and says to Morgan, "BTW, Henry's been done with breastfeeding for about three months now. I was talking about him sleeping in our room."

When Morgan blushes just a bit – quite involuntarily, of course – she can't help but grin. She thinks to herself that despite the cold and gloomy weather and all the crazy things on her mind, this is going to be a good day.

In a few hours, she'll realize how very wrong she was. But by then, it'll seem like a lifetime has passed.

* * *

Their order is quite large; hot drinks for everyone on the team. The guys try to be cool and stick with regular coffee, all except Reid who asks for some concoction that was made in a lab somewhere. Mocha java Houdini super splat or something like that.

It has like six shots in it. Enough to give someone a heart attack.

When Prentiss orders it, she's near to incredulous. She reads and re-reads the paper with the orders on it. Then she looks up at the young barista and shrugs.

As they head back towards JJ's SUV, they're carrying two full trays.

"So you said Will is out of town?" Prentiss asks.

"Yeah," comes the response, a big tight.

For the second time that morning, Prentiss asks, "Everything okay?"

JJ sighs. "Yeah, everything's fine. It's just…I think I'm being unreasonable."

"What do you mean?"

"He took Henry to see his grandparents, they never have seen him. I didn't want…I didn't want Henry away. We argued…it was stupid…I just…I don't like him away."

"Him?"

JJ chuckles, "Either." It's an admission of feelings, but like most things JJ, it's understated. She's still not ready to slip on a ring, still not ready to commit to anyone besides her son.

They reach JJ's SUV and head to opposite doors. The alarm disarms with a chirp, but JJ's speaking again so neither of them hear the scuffle behind them.

"It's the first time he's been aw-" she doesn't finish the sentence, crying out in pain instead.

"JJ?" Prentiss calls out.

Then she hears a loud thump.

Her heart starts to pound.

Loud. Too loud.

She doesn't call out again, instead pulls out her gun and leans down to peer under the SUV, towards the opposite side.

She sees JJ laying on the ground, not moving. Her grip tightens on her gun. She stays silent, keeps creeping towards her friend.

No one appears to be around, but she doesn't trust that.

Because she thought she heard something before JJ cried out.

She thought she heard the distorted buzz of electricity.

Just as she bends down to touch JJ, she hears it again.

She doesn't cry out; she groans.

And then there's nothing but the cold embrace of darkness.

* * *

The hairs on the back of his neck go up after thirty minutes has passed without their return. By the time an hour passes, he's pacing. He holds his phone tight in hand and calls her cell again. He catches the time on the clock on his wall – just a bit after nine-thirty.

"JJ, it's Hotch," he says. "Just trying to find you."

He's already left the message asking if she knocked off the Starbucks and is lying on the ground, shaking from too much caffeine.

Then he was joking. Now's he not.

Something is wrong.

The closest Starbuck's is 6.2 miles away. 6.4 according to Reid who claims that Mapquest is counting wrong.

Considering that two weeks ago Mapquest tried to send them to the top of the mountain when they were searching for the ocean, he can believe that.

In any case, a hair over six miles there, another six on the return trip…they should be back now.

He picks up his phone and dials again.

It goes right to voicemail.

* * *

She wakes up first, groggy and in pain, but conscious and a bit surprised to be alive.

She looks around and sees a sliver of artificial light catch off of blonde hair. She lets out a breath that she didn't know she was holding.

"JJ," she hisses, crawling closer to her friend. She shakes her. "JJ. Come on. Open your eyes. Come on. JJ. Come on."

After a moment and another shake, she adds on a desperate "please."

That does the trick. Blue eyes open, blink and then she hisses in pain and follows it with a heavy groan and a whimpered "owww."

"Yeah, I know," Emily says compassionately. "We were tasered." She slides a hand behind JJ's back and helps her into the sitting position. "Easy. Easy. Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"Umm…I don't know?"

Emily can tell that JJ's still disorientated, still trying to get her wits about her. "It's okay. Easy."

"Where are we?" JJ asks, her voice thick. She's starting to clear the cobwebs from her vision and is now looking around, trying to figure out what's going on, trying to understand.

"I'm not sure," Emily replies. "Some kind of room. No windows, lights up on the ceiling above us, heavy door. Some kind of safe room maybe? Honestly, I don't know."

"All I wanted was coffee," JJ groans.

Emily considers cracking a bad joke, but decides against it. Instead she leans towards JJ. "Tilt your head."

JJ does as told, but the expression on her face shows her confusion.

"He got you right behind the ear."

"Awesome," JJ replies. "Now can you tell me why?"

"No," Emily admits. "But wherever we are, whoever took us, he took our guns and badges."

"And our watches," JJ replies, glancing down at her bare wrist. She looks up, "Why?"

Emily doesn't have an answer for that either.

* * *

After almost two hours, they stop being patient and decide it's time to go looking for their missing colleagues. They've been doing this job too long not to worry.

They find JJ's car in the parking lot, next to it several cups of coffee, their remains spilled out beneath the cups.

"Is there a camera anywhere around?" Morgan asks, to no one in particular. He's bent down next to the coffee, wishing it would tell him a better story than it is.

"No," Spencer Reid says from where he is, leaning over the passenger side of the car. "The manager of the coffee shop said their parking lot cameras haven't been used in months. They've just been letting people think they're on." He gets out of the car and shuts the door. "Nothing looks out of order in here."

Hotch scowls at this, but says nothing. He's glancing around, trying to mentally figure out how two trained and armed FBI agents got kidnapped in broad daylight.

That they are women is irrelevant in that respect. They're two of the toughest agents he's ever met.

"Obviously our Unsub wasn't fooled," David Rossi says as he comes over. He addresses Hotch. "No one saw anything."

"How is that possible?" Morgan demands.

Hotch replies first. "He was waiting for them." He points towards the hood of the SUV. "He probably saw them get out of the car and he waited for them up there."

"The question is," Rossi asks thoughtfully, "Was he looking for them as FBI agents or as women?"

* * *

Sleeping would have been easy. They're both exhausted and their bodies weary, but the fear of the unknown keeps them awake.

They've both already paced the room, checking every wall, looking for any way out.

There is none.

They're trapped inside this room.

Now they're both sitting on the cold ground, leaning up against the wall, neither saying anything.

Waiting.

Just waiting.

Then suddenly, he speaks, his voice booming over the loud speaker. They both jump, surprised and maybe even a bit scared.

Anger replaces that quickly.

"Hello, ladies."

"Who are you?" Emily demands as she stands up. JJ is slightly slower to her feet, waving off a brief wave of nausea.

"Your host," he says simply. "And I imagine you're both wondering why you're lucky enough to be here with me."

"Narcissist," Emily says under her breath. It's wildly inappropriate and the timing is suspect considering.

That doesn't stop JJ from adding a quiet "Shmuck."

The man ignores them both. "You're here because I want you here."

"For what reason?" Emily demands.

"To amuse me."

This time, JJ doesn't even bother to try to hide her eyeroll. She's unimpressed by his Wizard of Oz act.

"How?" Emily asks, turning in a complete circle. She's looking for the speaker, trying to understand the complete scope of their predicament. She finally spots a camera up near the ceiling.

"All in time, Agent Prentiss. For now, I want to stress the importance of following my every order when I give it to you."

The women exchange a look, not sure where is going. That he knows who they are is more than mildly upsetting, but expected considering the loss of their badges.

Emily touches JJ's hand, both protectively and to offer comfort. JJ doesn't need it, but she's glad it's there.

"This will be a test for both of you. A test of your ability to obey orders. If you do everything I say – everything – you will survive. Refuse one order and you will both die as horribly as you could ever imagine. Understand?"

Emily tightens her hand on JJ's forearm now. "You're making a very big mistake. This is a bad idea. It can't end well."

"It can," the unseen man ensures them. Then, after a pause and a chuckle. "But it never does. Because of women like you. Who won't obey. Who can't obey."

"Someone has mommy issues," JJ mutters. Her voice is low enough that only Prentiss can hear her.

But somehow he hears. "You could say that, Agent Jareau. Speaking of, I see you have a son."

JJ's eyes flare and she steps towards the camera. "If you even think about touching him–"

She doesn't get the words out before he speaks over her. "Your cute little boy is in no danger from me, Agent Jareau. The only danger for him is you."

"Go to hell," she growls.

He laughs. "Already reserved a ticket, my love."

The words send a chill up the spines of both women. It's so casual and normal. And more than a little creepy.

He continues before either of them can reply. "But you misunderstand me. I don't mean that he's in danger from you, I mean he's in danger of losing you."

She swallows hard, can't speak, fades back just a step.

"Good, then I think I've made my point. I'm sure we'll need to re-address later. We always do after the first session. For now, however, rest. You'll need it. So will I. Before I do, though, I'll leave you with this: obedience is your only option. I have no sympathy for you. You will either do what I tell you to do or you will do. It really is that simple."

A click and the intercom goes off.

Several seconds pass and then Emily speaks first. "What the fuck was that?"

She's not a subtle woman. She's not subtle now. She's angry, frustrated and even a bit scared.

Scared for JJ, who has suddenly turned inside and is thinking only of her son.

She figures JJ is suddenly very thankful that her son is hundreds of miles away, visiting relatives in New Orleans with daddy.

It's not just JJ she's scared for, though.

She's scared for herself, too.

She doesn't think their unknown control freak captive has something normal in demand for his orders.

She doesn't think he's going to demand that they do laundry. However creepy that might be.

JJ starts to reply, but before she can, they again hear the whistling of electricity. This time it signals a TV snapping to life. It's up on the wall, high above them, safe from them.

The screen comes to life, showing something that likely happened in the very room they're in.

Emily puts her hand over her mouth. JJ just stares at the screen in mute horror.

On the screen are two women. One is tied to a chair. The other is above her, holding a knife in her hand. Both are covered in cuts and bruises. Both look like they've been through hell. The woman with the knife leans forward and cuts the woman in the chair. The victim screams as blood cascades down her cheek.

The woman in the chair says, "Please, no more. Please stop."

Looking like she's about to throw up, the woman with the knife pulls back, shakes her head, says she can't. Says it again and again and again. Begs her unseen master not to make her do this.

A disembodied voice replies, "Do it or you both die."

"I can't," the woman with the knife says. And then she crumbles to her knees. She doesn't have this in her. She just can't.

She starts to cry, but within seconds, her tears turn to coughs. Her friend starts coughing then as well. Minutes later, they both start bleeding from their nose, mouth and ears. They're in agony.

They both die that way.

All because the woman with the knife refused to hurt her friend.

White type appears on the screen. It says: "They survived six hours." Then the screen goes black.

JJ and Emily exchange a look.

It might say: "oh shit."

It might say: "this is very bad."

But mostly, it admits to fear.

Mostly it wonders if they can do what needs to be done to survive.

It has no idea.

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: This one is brutal guys. Don't say you weren't warned. In the end, this will be about the ties that bind and break. Thanks for the kind words.

* * *

"Why two women," Reid is the first to ask. It's a question they've all been thinking about, but not yet put into words.

"He's right," Morgan adds. "It doesn't make sense. Controlling one person is hard enough. Two is considerably more difficult."

A nod from Hotch. "Throw in that they're FBI agents and you've doubled if not tripled how much you have to control."

"Especially those two," Rossi cracks. It's not a very good joke, but all three of the others respect what he's trying to do.

He's trying to say that they're tough.

He's trying to assure them they'll make it.

Garcia's frantic call changes everything.

* * *

At first she considered standing near the door. It's occurred to her that someone will need to come through it eventually.

After all, the women on the tape didn't get a knife out of thin air.

And so she hovers close, waiting.

Even though she knows he can see her.

She's hoping that he's the kind that does his own handiwork.

She hopes that he doesn't have help.

But when the door opens and a man enters, Emily Prentiss knows immediately that he's not their guy.

When he steps through the door, they both stand up to face him. JJ wobbles on her way up and she seems unsteady. Probably the lingering effects of the tazer.

She thinks the way JJ's acting, maybe the son of a bitch gave her too much of a jolt.

"Back, get back," the man says as he enters. He's got a ratty old gym bag over his should, but neither of the women really notice it. Their eyes are on the gun he's holding in his slightly shaking hand. Probably a .22. He's waving it around a bit wildly, like he's afraid of them.

Emily briefly considers trying to disarm him, but gives up the plan.

Because if she fails, they're fucked.

And if she doesn't fail and they get out of this room, the chances are that he's right outside of it.

In which case they're still fucked.

She hates the idea of waiting to be saved. It's simply not in her.

But in this case, it's probably a necessity.

After all, they have no idea where they are or how many Unsubs they're dealing with.

She has thoughts in her head, thinks he's probably got only this guy, but she can't be sure.

Not sure enough to act.

The man pushes them back a few more inches and then drops the bag he's carrying. Before either of them can again think about trying to attack him, he turns and jets out of the room.

The door slams shut loudly.

Horribly.

They stare at the bag.

Neither of them dares to open it.

* * *

"Four sets," Garcia grinds out. Her hands are shaking and her fingers, normally sure and true, are stumbling over the keys.

She finally manages to punch a button and pictures begin to come up.

All of them of women. All who have died horrifically.

Some of the pictures are of good friends, arm in arm. Laughing. Happy.

Alive.

Beneath them are photos of death.

Terrible, twisted.

"God," Rossi whispers. Even he, experienced and jaded, is taken aback by this.

Hotch shoots him a look, but says nothing. These days his faith in God is severely short.

Just about broken.

"Why didn't we know about this?" Morgan asks.

"Because it never came to us," she replies. "These murders are happening all over DC. Different precincts. I don't think they've reached out and realized that they have a mutual problem."

She's controlling her emotions for the moment and Hotch is immeasurably proud of her.

"So he's kidnapping sets on purpose?" Reid asks.

Hotch is looking over the file now and as he gets to the end of it, he nods slowly. He speaks even slower. "Four sets of two women. All of them close friends. Each of them were found with wounds that appeared to be caused by…" He stops then and considers his words. When he speaks again, his voice is very calm, very matter of fact. "… their friend."

"They were hurting each other?" Morgan asks, incredulous.

"They were being forced to," Rossi corrects.

Garcia gasps. This is simply too much for her. Morgan reaches down and takes her hand, squeezes it tight.

"All of the women were sexually assaulted post-mortem." Hotch tells them. "The Unsub didn't touch them while they were alive. All of the injuries inflicted pre-death appear to have been caused - based on the size of the marks - by each other."

"No! They won't," Garcia stammers out. "They won't hurt each other. They won't…"

"They'll do what they have to do to survive," Rossi says quietly.

"And they'll hope they can forgive each other on the backend," Hotch finishes before even he is overwhelmed. Then, "I have to make a call." And with that, he turns on his heels and exits the room.

The others wonder if he's made his way to the bathroom to throw up.

They wouldn't blame him if he did.

When he returns, they won't ask him about it either.

* * *

They continue staring at the bag.

"Should we open it?" JJ queries, keeping her distance from it. She's no coward, but nor has she any inclination to cause herself harm due to unnecessary curiosity.

Especially since he might be counting on that curiosity.

"No," Emily says.

"You will in time, Agent Prentiss," his voice suddenly booms.

"What do you want from us?" Emily growls.

"I told you already. I want you to do as I say."

"And if we refuse?" she presses.

"You won't. We both know you won't." His voice is tight and hard and they know he's right. "Now, shall we move onto the rules?"

Neither woman replies. They're both quite aware of how close they're standing to each other, how tightly pressed together they are. Strength together.

That's the theory anyway.

"I'll take that as a yes. Good. Rule number 1 – you have to survive twenty-four hours. If you can, I will instruct my associate to return you to the parking lot you were taken from." He pauses for effect. "Alive."

At that moment, they hear the TV above them turn back on. The only thing on the screen now is the number 24:00.

"That game-clock starts as soon as I give the first order. It stops for good the moment you refuse to do as directed. That's the second rule. The most important one. Everything I say, you do it. No one else has ever."

He told them this before. They have no doubt he means it.

"Now, you two ladies have a choice to make."

"What choice is that?" Emily growls. She despises games. They're things that politicians play and she has no use for them.

"Who gets hurt first," comes back the voice with a sharp cruel laugh.

Suddenly, they both get it.

Hurt. It's all about hurt.

They exchange another look, have a silent conversation between them. And make a decision that they both hope they can live with.

"Me," Emily finally says.

He laughs again. "How heroic. The stronger woman tries to protect the weaker one."

JJ bristles as this, but wisely says nothing.

"Let's see how long that holds up."

Emily wants to taunt him, wants to ask him if he plans to talk them to death, but then reconsiders this. The longer he talks, the more time the team has to find them.

And failing that, the more time she and JJ have to figure a way to get themselves out of this.

"I see you're ready to begin. Good. One last reminder then. Continue playing along for the next twenty-four hours and this will end well for everyone. Stop at any time and I promise you, what you saw on the screen earlier, well you'll be wishing for that kind of death."

JJ wants to laugh at the dramatic nature of his words, but really she's in no mood for mirth.

"Now, Jennifer, I want you to punch her across the face. And please, don't hold back. Hit her like you know how to. I want to feel it where I am."

JJ doesn't move. She can't believe this is real. She keeps waiting for him to laugh and say: "just kidding."

He doesn't. "Jennifer, really? The clock hasn't even begun."

She swallows hard, still can't make herself move. It's Emily's voice that brings her out of her stupor. "It's okay," she whispers.

It's not. It's so not.

JJ looks at Emily, a slight glisten in her eyes. She mouths, "I'm sorry." The brunette nods and offers a wry smile. Then, corralling all of her courage, JJ pulls back, loosely balls her fist and punches.

Even prepared for the blow, Prentiss can't stop herself from staggering when the blonde's fist collides with her jaw. Her fingers go up to her jaw and she touches it. She has to close her eyes as a wave of pain crashes through her.

* * *

"I still don't get it," Garcia says once Hotch returns from supposedly making a call. No one asks him who he needed to call in such a hurry and he doesn't offer up the information himself. "What kind of man does something like this?"

It's an open question asked to a room of profilers. That's like throwing raw animal flesh into a shark tank,

It's their opening and they take it.

"He probably has trouble performing with an actual woman," Morgan starts off. "The violence is what gets him off."

"That makes sense why all the sexual activity occurs post-mortem," Hotch says thoughtfully.

"Makes sense?" Garcia challenges. "How does that make sense?"

"It means he needs what he's making these women do to each other to be able to perform sexually," Morgan says softly.

"That still doesn't make sense…none of this makes any sense…" she's panicking, crumbling.

Morgan puts a hand on her shoulder, squeezes, says softly, "I know, baby girl." And he does because she's right. This is beyond disturbing.

This horrifies even him.

"But why?" Reid asks. "Why two women?"

"Maybe the number is incidental," Rossi offers.

"Not likely," Hotch says with a shake of his head. "It's too specific."

"Maybe it's a re-enactment of something he went through," Reid offers up.

"Likely a mother abused him and so he's abusing his mother back, you mean?" Morgan suggests. Then he frowns. "But if that's it, why be so complicated about it?"

"Because whoever the woman was, she probably completely emasculated him. He doesn't know how to be the male aggressor. He doesn't know how to attack them in his own right. He only knows about the violence inflicted on him," Hotch answers.

They can all buy that so they move on.

"These murders were committed throughout DC. That means his base of operations is somewhere nearby..." Reid says.

Hotch nods. "Good. What else do we have?"

Silence.

Dammit.

"Right," he just about whispers. "We need more."

"Will video do, sir," Garcia asks, near tears now.

The men turn towards her. "What?" Rossi asks.

"I just got an email with a link in it to a live video feed," she says, voice cracking hard. "God, why do they keep making us watch."

No one has an answer for that.

Reid briefly considers leaving the room. He briefly considers a lot of things. He thinks about how easy it would be to get the chemical peace he needs. He thinks about a street where no one tells who bought what as long as the money is good.

And then he remembers that Henry is his godson and he thinks about the NA meeting down at the VA Center.

He remembers that JJ and Emily are family and he thinks about bad coffee and stale muffins. He knows he'll be tasting both of those things soon enough.

For now, however, he stays and steels himself for Hotch's words.

"Play it."

* * *

They know the tape is rolling.

At first they both cared. They'd like to hope that when this is over, it will all go away.

They'd like to think they can forget about it.

But they know that that's not what he's planning for. He's recorded all of the attacks and though Emily hasn't voiced it, she suspects that he's made sure the families of the victims have seen the tapes.

Which means that no matter what happens here today, no matter how it turns out, the rolling tape will force them to remember. And if not them, someone else.

Someone will know about what they were forced to do.

Halfway through JJ's attack on her, however, something strange happens to both of them.

They forget about the camera. They stop caring.

They both come to the same conclusion; they'll deal with the aftermath later. They're certain they can. They just need to get through the right now.

That's certainly hard enough.

JJ's hand hurts now, blood all over the knuckles.

She's not sure whom it belongs to.

Thankfully, he likes to watch the recovery as much as the pain. They've been at this for over two hours.

They've almost got a rhythm going.

He gives an order, JJ hesitates, he repeats the order, she gives in. Emily bleeds. He waits and watches as Emily recovers. He lets them both have a few minutes to dwell on what's happening.

And then he starts everything all over again.

Emily is on the ground now, bent over, breathing hard. Her dark hair hangs in curtains around her face, hiding her grimace.

She's irrationally thankful that so far it's only been the face.

Her gallows humor takes over and in her head, she tells herself that she needed a new nose anyway.

"Emily, I'm so sorry," JJ says, voice trembling.

"I'm okay," Emily assures her. She spits blood, winces.

"Get up," the voice demands. "Get up now."

The brunette starts to stand. Her knees buckle a bit, but she struggles past it.

"Don't let her."

JJ startles. "What?"

"Don't let her get up."

They both stop moving.

"You heard me," he says. "You know what to do."

They do.

Prentiss starts to rise. JJ takes a breath and then kicks out, directly into Emily's ribcage. The brunette grunts and falls. She knows that JJ pulled back as much as she dare, but it still hurts like hell.

After all, JJ went to college because of her feet.

Star soccer player and all that.

Gasping for air, Emily tries to look up immediately, tries to find JJ's blue eyes with her brown ones.

JJ wasn't built for this.

Not like she was, but she's been through several different flavors of hell in her life, some of them physical. She figures she can find a way to handle it.

JJ? Well if she has been through more than it appears, she keeps much of it to herself.

Which, Emily muses to herself, knowing JJ and how close to the chest she plays everything, probably means she's got a closet full of nasty skeletons.

However, in the absence of data proving such, all Emily knows is that her blonde friend won't be able to get through this without help.

To be fair, neither of them will be able to.

Somehow, they have to figure out how to get through this together.

They have to.

"I'm okay," she mouths to JJ. She's been saying that for the last two hours, after every attack. JJ bought it the first time, maybe even the second, but now?

Now, not so much.

Emily tries to force a smile to reassure JJ, but it's more of a gruesome grimace and the blonde recoils from it. Her look says that she desperately wants to drop down and put her arms around Emily. She wants to do what she does best; offer comfort.

She's not allowed to.

The horribly ironic part – not at all lost on her – is that she'd be offering Emily comfort from herself.

A stray thought flickers through her desperate brain and for the briefest of moments, she actually considers begging the Unsub for mercy. Begging him to please, please just stop this. Please.

She quickly banishes the thought.

Partly because it won't matter. He's a sadist and only wants to destroy them.

Mostly, however, because she refuses to break so easily.

"One last thing for now," he says finally, his voice insanely calm. "Then I'll let you both rest for awhile."

They exchange a look.

He's got them so off-balance, they don't know what to make of anything he says or does.

A break in the torture?

That almost seems merciful.

It doesn't match the profile. They both realize this.

"Open up the gym bag, Agent Jareau," he instructs.

She makes her way over to the bag, unzips and looks in. It takes everything she has not to gasp in horror.

"Take the tazer out."

She pauses.

"Agent Jareau." Almost gentle, chiding. She doesn't miss the undercurrent of deadly.

She reaches into the bag and takes it out. Holds it up.

"Walk back over to Agent Prentiss."

Legs feeling like rubber, she forces her body over towards Emily, who is still on the ground, though now sitting up, watching.

Emily sees the wild panic in JJ's eyes, closes her own. "Just do it," she whispers.

* * *

This feels a bit like déjà vu. No, it feels a lot like it.

They watch the screen, unable to tear their eyes away.

It's a bit strange for Reid to be on this side of things. To now know exactly what his teammates were feeling when Tobias had him.

They watch as JJ approaches Emily, who already looks like hell.

They hear Emily say, "Just do it."

And then they hear another voice, "No."

Both women stop then and look up, confused, disorientated.

"Change sides."

"No!" Emily cries out. "No…"

"I wasn't asking."

JJ isn't saying anything, she's suddenly gone very pale.

"Please, no, let me take it, "Emily begs.

"The rules," their unseen attacker says softly. "The rules."

"Emily," JJ says suddenly. "I'm okay."

This hits all of them hard. They've been hearing Emily say this for the last hour. They watch as JJ offers Emily the tazer, hands shaking.

"No, JJ…"

And then JJ repeats one more thing Emily has said. She says, "Just do it."

When the first crackle of electricity fills the screen, Garcia turns away.

When the second one goes off, only Hotch is still watching.

By the time JJ collapses from the third one, even he looks away.

All of the men pretend not to see Garcia's shaking shoulders.

All of the men pretend not to hear the gasps of pain coming from the video screen.

All of the men pretend not to hear Emily saying JJ's name over and over again.

None of them are able to.

TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **

_Hey all - I've been blown away by the feedback to this. Such kind words are very much appreciated and yes, they do eventually get me moving again. Things have been crazy lately, but this story has never been far from my mind. I would advise that you re-read Chaps 1/2 before you proceed to this one so you recall where we left off. Again, feedback is very much appreciated._

_This story is about more than just what is happening in the room, it will be about the aftermath of it as well as the friendships involved.  
_

_One last warning - this is a very, very dark piece. Approach accordingly._

* * *

The video cuts out a few moments after JJ falls to the ground.

But not before they can see her shaking, her hands spasming as the electrical current winds its way through her small frame.

Not before they are able to see Emily reach out and then forcibly stop herself from touching her trembling blonde friend.

When the video feed finally goes dead, each of them is privately thankful.

Rossi gets himself together first. "We need a profile."

* * *

"JJ," Emily says, reaching out. She stops short, doesn't touch the shaking woman. She can hear the heavy ragged breaths that JJ is taking.

They break her heart.

She tries to separate her mind from her heart.

Tries to focus.

She can do this.

She has to.

Focus.

God, please.

Focus.

On her. Yes, that will help. Focus on JJ.

Okay, that works. Her mind starts to clear.

They've been in captivity for close to four hours now and JJ's already been zapped four times.

Three times by her hand.

The first one – administered by the Unsub - was obviously strong enough to knock JJ out.

The last three? Well he must have turned the voltage down before he'd given them the tazer.

Partly to make JJ able to take multiple shocks.

Mostly to make the pain last longer.

And that's got to be the important part. The pain. It's all about the pain.

Another sharp gasp gets her attention. JJ's trying to pull air into her lungs.

"JJ," she says quietly. "Look at me. Please."

After a beat, JJ finally looks up. There are tears in her eyes, but they haven't fallen yet. She's trying to be tough even as her body trembles.

"I'm…I'm okay. I'm okay."

Emily feels a surge of – well something – go through her.

Pride, joy, whatever.

Friends have been hard to come by in her life. Real friends that is, she's had more than her fair share of emotional leaches. Her BAU team, well they're different.

JJ is different.

Not a lie or a manipulation like almost everything in her life has always been.

Real. Good. Tough as nails.

"I know you are, JJ," she finally says. "Can you sit up?"

"Ye-yes." JJ replies as she pushes herself backwards, into the sitting position. Emily doesn't miss the way the blonde squints her eyes for just the slightest fraction of a moment. Doesn't miss the way the veins in her neck bulge as her body fights to regain control over itself.

"How bad are you?" Emily asks softly, again reaching out for JJ, but again stopping short.

JJ looks up and somehow, amazingly, forces a smile. "How bad are you?"

Emily laughs, runs her hand past her face. She's no longer bleeding from any of the cuts there, but she can feel the swelling. She shrugs, tries out her best ironic smile. "I guess we're both hanging in there."

"Yeah."

"JJ…"

"Please don't," the blonde says, looking up and meeting her brunette friends dark eyes. "I know you're sorry. I am, too. I know you don't want to hurt me. I don't want to hurt you, either."

She stops speaking for a moment, but Emily knows she's not done. She can tell that JJ is battling with herself, trying to figure how to say what she needs to.

If they were in a different time and place, she'd probably tease JJ for not being able to find the words. Because she can always find them. That's JJ gift. Right now, though…

"I want to see my son again," comes the eventual end of the sentence. Quiet, almost inaudible.

And really, just that simple.

Emily nods sharply. "We need a profile," Her eyes track up to the video camera and while a part of her wonders if it's smart to do what they're about to do, the other part realizes that it's all she can do.

She's a profiler. JJ's part of a profiling team.

It's what they do.

It's what they have to do if they want to get out of this.

She makes a silent promise to herself; JJ will make it home to Henry.

She will.

Whatever it takes.

Whatever.

* * *

"Why did he send us a video feed?" Morgan starts off. They're still gathered around Garcia, pretending not to notice her staring at the blank screen.

"And how did he know where to send it to?" Rossi puts in.

"JJ's phone," Garcia responds. "She has all of our email addresses in it. All he would have had to do is copy the address out and use an anonymous email address. Which he did. I'm trying to track it, but he's got some experience with this."

She starts typing again. Morgan pretends not to notice how many times she's had to backspace, how many typos this normally sure-handed woman has made in less than a minutes time. He pretends not to notice how much she's suddenly slowed down. How he's probably a faster typist about now.

"What about the other victims? Is there anything in the files about their family members receiving video or any other kind of media file?" Hotch asks.

"Checking, sir." Tap. Tap. Backspace. Tap. Tap. Hands clench, unclench. Tap. Tap. Faster. Rhythm. It's a battle for herself and she refuses to lose it. She refuses to let them down by not being good enough to find the answers.

She will find the answers.

"There's no way he could have been stalking them," Hotch states suddenly. "Not specifically, I mean." He has their attention now and so he continues. "They left in JJ's SUV, which she parks in one of the underground garages. Unless he was standing by the road watching…"

"Which security surely would have noticed," Reid squeaks. He sounds like a young man going through puberty, but that's mirth for another time.

"Right," Hotch nods.

"So he was staking out the coffee shop, looking for victims," Morgan says, more to himself than them.

It's an amazing thing, this room right now. Brilliant minds, all in motion. All spinning desperately, frantically.

"Makes sense," Rossi shrugs. "If you're looking for pairs, always pairs, a coffee shop is as good a place as any."

"More than a good place," Morgan corrects. "Three times a week a couple of us go. I buy one today, you tomorrow. It's a pattern that holds true in every job across the country."

"So we have his hunting ground," Hotch states grimly.

"We also have more video," Garcia says softly. "Every case, it's the same; an email sent with a web address. He lets…he makes people watch. Why? Why do people do this? Why?"

"Because he wants everyone to see," Rossi answers.

"See what?" Garcia demands, voice rising. "See them hurt each other?"

"No. See them destroy each other," Hotch corrects.

* * *

"What's his MO?" Emily begins.

"Two women. Always friends," comes JJ's shaky response. She's sitting up against the wall now, her breath finally regulating. Her color is still off and there's a tremble to her hands, but slowly, surely, she's getting a hold of herself.

"Close friends," Emily inserts. It's pointed and she lifts her eyes to meet JJ's. Strong. Defiant.

JJ gets it. Takes a breath. Continues.

"Then he puts them into a room and forces them to inflict harm on each other." Her voice tails off as a tremor cuts its way through her body. After a moment, quietly. "Why?"

"Because someone hurt him. Maybe a friend, maybe a member of his family. Somebody who said they cared about him."

"So this is all to prove a point?"

"Yes. This is to prove that friendship, love, whatever…it isn't real."

"Very good," the voice says from above them. Haughty, controlled, even a bit amused. "I must say; you two are by far the most entertaining of my guests. The others are usually crying by now, near to hysterical."

Both women look up and glare at their unseen captor.

Emily bites back a retort. Something that would have started with a lovely stream of profanity.

"Oh now, Emily, that's a shame. It looks like you had something you wanted to say to me."

She smiles sweetly. It's really more of a scowling grimace. "Oh, I have a lot of things I'd like to say to you."

"I bet you do. And you, Jennifer?"

JJ doesn't reply. Her eyes have closed and for a moment, Emily panics, a terrible pain ripping across her belly.

Had she hurt JJ worse than she thought she had? Had the electricity damaged her heart? Caused a -

Her runaway train is stopped by the rise and fall of JJ's chest.

She sees the blonde open her blue eyes.

"You have your rules. I have mine."

Emily almost laughs.

He does it instead.

"Interesting. I'm intrigued. Tell me more."

JJ looks up. "No."

There's a moment of silence, a moment where Emily inhales sharply. She's a bit surprised. Typically she would be the one figuratively flipping off the Unsub.

So that brings up the question; what is JJ up to?

"No?"

"No." Again, so simple. No explanation.

"You are a curiosity, Jennifer. You have so much to lose."

"I do, but you don't want us to die."

"I don't?"

"No."

"Again with the one word answers."

JJ smiles slightly. Now even Emily is intrigued. For a moment, she'd wondered if JJ had lost her mind, but now she realizes that the blonde media liaison is doing what she always does – controlling the room even when it's filled with vipers.

"And why don't I?"

"Because then this would start all over. And you don't want that. You want one of us to win. Otherwise, why keep doing this? Why keep trying to force two people to try defeat you? Why else unless you want to eventually lose. You want to be stopped."

Again, silence.

And then the lights in the room go off, only the screen with the time counting down still on and flashing brightly.

"I guess he didn't like my answer."

"I guess not. What was that?" Emily finally hisses.

"An educated guess," JJ replies. Then, more quietly, uncertain. "Did I - was I wrong? This isn't my –"

Panic taints her tone.

"No, I think you're probably right," Emily says quickly. "Even if he's trying to prove a point that there are real friendships or whatever, he wouldn't keep running this….experiment…unless he's hoping that one day he'll get a different answer."

"Good. Then we have a chance."

"Yes, but not because of him."

JJ tilts her head, like she's not following.

"We're going to get through this," Emily assures her.

"Say what you have to say," JJ urges.

"It's just...well he may be hoping for a different answer, but he doesn't know how to go about getting one. All he knows is how to get the answer he always has. Push, torture, break until his point is proven."

"So you're saying…"

"I'm saying that us not doing what he expects us to do will only make him try harder to get us to do it."

"Oh."

Quiet. Small. And then:

"So I probably just really pissed him off?"

"Yeah," Emily admits.

Again, "Oh."

And then Emily smiles and laughs.

"What?" JJ asks, eyebrow up. This hardly seems the time for laughter.

"It was pretty awesome."

"Yeah," JJ chuckles. "I'll tell Henry about it when he's eighteen."

"Yeah, you will."

They fall into silence for several minutes, the darkness of the room between them.

"Em?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm…I'm…"

She means to say "scared", but can't get it out.

"Me, too," Emily says. Then reaches out and takes JJ's hand, squeezes it tight.

* * *

There are moments when Aaron Hotchner desperately wishes that he were another man.

A man with less control.

A man whom less people looked to for calm. For guidance.

Right now, he'd like to disappear into his office and –

Well, he's not sure what he'd like to do. He just knows that it wouldn't be calm nor controlled.

And yet he stands here now, just above Garcia, hand on the back of her chair, re-watching the video.

"You don't have to be here," he finally tells her when he hears her breath catch again.

She may be sitting in a room safe from the physical abuse, but she's being tortured just the same.

He won't do this to her.

She looks to him for that; to protect her.

Until he can figure out how to protect them, he will protect who he can.

More than a job or duty. Something he simply must do.

"Thank you, sir," she says as she scrambles out of her chair. She offers no more apologies, no assurances that she'll be right back – she needn't do so, he knows she will – she just leaves.

"We should interview the families of the prior victims," Rossi says as he re-enters the room.

The others are out in the bullpen, calling the police departments that handled the cases, searching for anything that might have been left out of the official reports.

"Right," Hotch nods. "We'll need to split up. Maybe one of them remembers something strange about the contact from the Unsub."

"Last known addresses of the immediate family members," Rossi says, holding out a print-out.

Hotch takes it, looks down at it then says softly, "If we can't find them –"

He might mean the families of the victims, but Rossi knows that he could well be talking about JJ and Prentiss, too.

"We'll do everything we can to."

And now they're both talking about the same thing.

"I know," Hotch nods. "Okay, split the list up. We need to get moving on it immediately. By my watch, we're at –" he glances down. "A bit over eighteen hours left."

"Got it." Rossi starts for the door, then stops and turns back. "You can keep watching that and maybe you'll notice a screw in the wall that you hadn't seen before. Maybe you'll see a reflection. But you and I both know that's not what you're looking for."

"What do you think I'm looking for, Dave?"

"A sign that those are the two women you think they are."

Hotch neither confirms nor denies this. He needn't bother.

Rossi steps back towards him, puts a hand on Hotch's shoulder. "They are."

Hotch lifts his eyes, meets Rossi's, then says. "One of the families was located nearby. I'll take them."

Rossi nods and exits.

Hotch turns back to the screen, sees the crackle of electricity just before the tazer is pressed up against JJ's flesh.

He wishes he could close his eyes.

He wishes he could be someone else.

He can't be.

And so again, he watches.

Looking for shadows in the corners.

Extra screws on the walls.

Signals in their eyes that they will make it through.

* * *

"Have we enjoyed our nap?" the man's voice finally says.

It seems like forever since he's spoken, but according to the clock, only two hours have passed. Just a notch over six hours total now. Eighteen more to go.

It's almost absurd to think of eighteen hours as unsurvivable.

Emily Prentiss can think of many eighteen-hour periods that she has wasted away without a second thought.

Sleeping,

Watching television.

Doing nothing at all.

It all passed so quickly.

In the blink of an eye. Time fading away.

Sands through the hourglass and all that.

She looks over, sees JJ's eyes are open. Wary, but aware. She's no longer trembling.

Emily lifts a hand, touches her face and winces. The swelling has gotten much worse. If the situation wasn't quite so fucked up, she might consider complimenting JJ on her mean left hook.

She doesn't think her friend would quite appreciate the humor in that right about now.

"Good. Then it's time for the next lesson. Jennifer, if you'll go back over to the bag."

JJ doesn't move.

"Jennifer." Softly chiding, almost amused.

"JJ," Emily says softly.

Slowly, JJ pushes herself to her feet. She makes her way over to the gym bag. She knows all of what's inside, she saw it earlier when he'd made her take the tazer out.

"Take the lighter out."

JJ swallows hard, reached in and pulls out a metal Zippo.

"Good. Walk back over to Emily now."

Her feet feel like rubber as she does.

"I let you ladies choose who would go first on the opening round. Now it's my turn."

They both tense up.

"It would be easy to see how much more you can take so early on, Jennifer. I'm guessing not much. You haven't built that up yet."

JJ almost tells her what she thinks of that, but stops herself. After all, it's not like she wants to encourage him to hurt her.

"And you're right, I would like to see this go a little longer than usual. All right then, Emily, roll up your sleeves."

JJ inhales sharply. She's not sure if she's relieved or horrified. She's a bit of both.

If Emily has a reaction, she doesn't show it. She rolls her sleeves up, exposing unblemished skin that is far too pale.

"Hold out your hands, palms down."

Emily does as instructed, clenching her jaw, readying herself. She tries to meet JJ's eyes, but JJ is looking at the lighter like it's a dog with two heads.

Like she's terrified of it.

"Jennifer, left palm. Right at the base of the wrist. Hold the flame there until I tell you to remove it."

"JJ…"

The flame flickers to life.

"JJ, look at me…" Emily begs.

It's not lost on her that she's said that a lot today.

Nor is it lost on her that this time, JJ is refusing to do so. She's not willing to take whatever pre-emptive forgiveness that Emily is offering.

"Do it," he says.

She watches JJ bring the Zippo under her hand, sees a flash of orange and then nothing more as it's pressed against her skin.

The pain is more of a stinging surprise at first. A tickling nuisance.

But sixty seconds later when he finally says "Stop" and JJ removes the flame from her wrist, the pain is near to unbearable.

Agonizing.

She thinks she can smell burning flesh. Her flesh.

Her stomach rolls.

And then calmly, he orders, "Now the other wrist, Jennifer."

Once again, Emily says JJ's name.

This time, to her surprise, JJ looks up.

This time, when the fire touches her skin, she sees the tears as they fall down JJ's cheeks.

And suddenly she realizes that neither of them care about being tough anymore.

They just care about surviving.

As the clock ticks towards fifty seconds the flame has been against her skin and she can't help herself from crying out in pain, she admits to herself that she not sure they have a chance in hell.

TBC.


	4. Chapter 4

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Apologies for the long delay again. I find that I am truly incapable of writing during the summer. Thankfully, now it's fall so the pace should pick up again. **

**Story Note: I would advise going back to Chapter 1 on this one. It may seem that some things are redundant or repetitive in their presentation, but there are differences that are important. Everything is happening for a reason - good or bad. As I've said before, this story isn't so much about what's happening to our ladies, though that is certainly extremely important, it's about what happens afterward. The friendships that build, break and then either fall apart completely or find a way to repair themselves.  
**

**Content Warning: This piece is extremely violent. There's some language, but generally this is just a no-punches pulled kind of piece. It's not meant to be torture porn, however. This sick bastard is doing this for his own sick reasons and our ladies are suffering. Please be mindful of the warning though and if this isn't your thing, I'd recommend staying away.**

**Feedback is always appreciated. The constant little pushes and words of encouragement are invaluable and I thank you for them.  
**

**J - you're up.**

**

* * *

  
**

Almost an hour has passed since he finally said, "Enough." Since then, not a word has been said. Complete silence except for the sound of their breathing.

It occurs to her that silence is starting to become it's own fully fleshed out character in this macabre psychodrama.

She wants to say something. She just doesn't know what.

She doesn't know how to make this better. Not just for JJ. For both of them.

That and every time she starts to move towards where JJ is crouched down in the corner, a flash of pain works its way up through her body.

She doesn't dare stand; the burns on the bottom of her feet – identical to the ones on the base of her wrists – hurt far too much for that.

Which means that she's reduced to crawling for the time being. And she she's just not ready to give him that. Not quite yet.

Her eyes flicker over to her shoes - beige colored sensible flats – which are now lying a few feet away from her, on their sides, hastily discarded.

"_Take your shoes off, Emily."_

_She realizes that he's started calling them both by their first names. This level of familiarity is unsettling and he knows it. He knows that he's completely in control._

_Slowly, she bends down and reaches for her left foot. As she does, her wrist brushes against her knee and she hisses in pain. For a moment, she can't think much less move._

"_Help her, Jennifer," he commands, voice calm, like he's asking someone to fetch him a soda. "Both shoes, please." So polite, so casual._

_She feels JJ's hand settle on her arm. She looks up and into the blonde's watery blue eyes. JJ forces a small smile. She nods and the lets JJ pull her down to the ground. She watches in mute silence as the blonde removes her flats, tossing them a few feet away._

"_Perfect Jennifer," he says. "You're getting the hang of this."_

_She sees JJ's jaw clench. She's almost surprised when she doesn't hear the blonde reply._

"_Now," he orders, "Put the flame against the pads, not the arch. After all, we want it to hurt, don't we?"_

_His voice lingers ever so slightly, almost airily, on the word "hurt"._

He gets his wish; hurt it does. Every time she moves her foot even an inch, pain screeches upwards. She's a woman who has endured many things and it's almost unbelievable to her that wounds so small could cause sensations so great, but they do.

Her wrists. Her feet.

Thankfully, he stopped after that.

Now they're back to sitting in the darkness with only the light from the TV illuminating the room. Sixteen hours and twelve minutes left on the play clock.

She wants the clock to speed up. She wants it to slow the hell down.

She turns her head slightly, looks over to where JJ is sitting in the corner, arms around her, head in his arms. Not shaking, not moving at all. Maybe she's sleeping…

Then, almost as if on cue:

"I wasn't sure."

The sound surprises her and she surges forward, momentarily forgetting about her injuries. Her body responds angrily, her badly bruised ribs howling in pain. She falls backwards, grimacing, trembling hand on her side. She closes her eyes for a moment, willing the pain back.

Finally, her voice strained, "Sure about what, JJ?"

"Hen..my son. I wasn't sure I wanted him. I think….at first, I didn't. I didn't…I didn't want him."

"There's nothing wrong with that."

JJ looks up and in the glow from the TV, Emily's surprised to see that there are no tears on her face. Almost like she's calm and completely put together. Her eyes, wide, wild and bright blue, tell a completely different story.

They tell a story of a mental collapse mid-breakdown.

They dart quickly side-to-side, hyper alert and panicked. "No, there is. A mother...I shouldn't…you're supposed to love…always…"

"Oh, honey, no," Emily says. She takes a breath and then crawls across the floor. It hurts her hands to do so, but she knows that the pain is less than if she tried to walk. She gets over to JJ quickly and falls against the wall, next to her.

"You didn't have to…"

Emily cuts her off quickly. "Nevermind that. Look, there's something you should know about me…"

"What…what are you talking about?"

Emily takes a breath. Then, "JJ, when I was younger…a lot younger…a teenager, I got…well, I got pregnant."

Now she's the one looking at her hands.

This was easier with Rossi.

Not because she thinks JJ will judge but because how do you tell someone who is terrified that they will never see their child again that you chose to not have one at all?

"You've never…"

"No, I didn't really want to talk about it. Look, JJ, I got an abortion." She practically blurts the words out.

Then she lets the silence hang.

And damn does it ever.

Finally, her voice perhaps a bit too measured, "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because, I want you to understand that being a good person doesn't mean you don't have doubts. Unless you don't consider me a good person."

The statement is a manipulative and unfair and she knows this, but she hopes it will serve its purpose.

It does.

JJ shakes her head. "Of course not. I just…I can't stop thinking about him. A few nights ago, I got so frustrated with him. He kept crying and Will just wants to let him. He says sometimes we just need to let him, but I just…I had to take a walk. I was so angry at both of them. Can you believe that? God, what does that make me?"

Emily starts to answer, but JJ doesn't let her. "That's the real reason Will took them home. Right now, I mean. He thinks I'm too stressed out. He thinks I need some quiet time. I guess I got it."

Emily snakes a hand behind JJ's back, wincing as the burn on her right wrist catches and rubs against the fabric of JJ's shirt.

"This is what he wants, JJ. He wants us to come apart. He wants you to start blaming yourself for everything. You can't do that. We can't. We have to get through this."

JJ looks up at the clock. Sixteen hours to go.

She nods slowly. Then says, "You understand what he wants, right?"

"He wants us to destroy each other."

"It's the only way we can survive."

"I know," Emily responds quietly.

And she does. If they're to make it out of this, one of three things has to happen. Either they have to save themselves, be saved by the team or they have to continue causing each other harm for another sixteen hours.

It seems unthinkable.

It's all she can think about.

She tightens her hold around JJ.

* * *

They return from their interviews with the families of the victims - the very few that are willing to talk anyway - more worried than they were when they left. No one can understand what happened, how this could have happened. They have no answers to give. All they know is that they lost someone they loved and all they have left of them is a stamp of unimaginable brutality - a videotape showing savagery beyond words.

It occurs to them all that this Unsub has won in more ways than one - he not only took the lives of his victims, but he also stole their memories away. Now, all their families remember them by is the horrific tape of their captivity and death.

As the clock turns to five at night, Morgan desperately suggests that they compile a list of all of the warehouses in the DC area. Hit them one by one. Maybe get lucky.

Considering that the list would probably have over a hundred options on it (at least), the idea is utterly irrational and he knows it, but the latest video feed – the one showing JJ burning Emily with the lighter – well it's made them all a little crazy.

A little bit frantic and willing to swing at pitches way outside the strike zone. So to speak anyway.

They're back in Garcia's tech room now, gathered tightly – helplessly – around her monitors. She's typing away, going through the cases, searching for other ones.

"Do you think maybe there's a method to his madness that we hadn't yet considered?" Rossi asks suddenly. "I mean in regards to how he's having them hurt each other."

It's kind of a disturbing question and yet all at once, everyone is considering it.

"What do you mean?" Hotch queries, tilting his head just a bit, the wheels in his head cranking into place, getting ready to turn with just the slightest bit of grease.

"He's gone after Emily the most," Morgan answers first. He looks at Rossi, who nods that yes, that's where he was going with this. "Aside from the tasering, which while painful will wear off without any serious long-term effects, everything else – the beating, the burning – was done to Emily."

"Maybe he considers Prentiss the stronger of the two," Hotch offers. "Weaken the strongest first, cause the other one to do so much damage while mostly staying free of substantial harm."

"Psychology 101," Reid says softly. "He's betting that eventually JJ won't be able to deal with the guilt of what she's doing."

"He doesn't know my Jayje very well then," Garcia says quietly. There's some defiant pride there.

Hotch allows the smallest of smiles and then, as if an idea suddenly occurring to him, "Wait a minute, maybe you were onto something, Morgan."

"About?"

"The warehouses. We have a general idea of what that room looks like. If we do a quick computer drawing of the room, can we match it off known warehouse blueprints in the system?"

"We can try," Garcia says. "But it'll take time."

He doesn't say what they're all thinking.

Time is the one thing they don't have.

* * *

"Jennifer."

It takes her a moment to realize that he's speaking again. So much time has passed since the action with the lighter that she had almost dozed off.

Nothing else to do.

She wonders why he's letting them have so much time to recover. She figures that it's just another part of the game. Let them think that time is passing and that maybe they have a chance.

That's got to be it.

"Jennifer," he says again.

She looks up towards the camera.

"Ah, there you are."

"Not a lot of places I can go," she replies dryly. She glances over to her side, sees Emily's eyes are opened as well. After their brief conversation, they'd both done all they could in this situation.

Close their eyes. Try to get some rest.

So much for that.

"True enough," he says cheerfully. Then, "I've got a surprise for you, Jennifer."

"Wonderful."

She sees Emily lift an eyebrow and shrugs. Her moods seem to be fluctuating wildly. Sarcastic. Depressed. Angry. Annoyed. Rinse and repeat.

"Oh cheer up, I promise this time you won't have to hurt Emily at all."

Instinctively, Emily straightens up.

"So this is going to be a bit like…well truth or dare only in this case, there's no dare. It's truth or punishment. And just think, this was all your idea, Emily."

"What the hell do you mean by that?"

"Oh I heard your tragic little tale about your baby. Really pulled my heartstrings."

Emily grits her teeth. She thinks she's never felt this kind of hatred before.

"And so now we're all going to share a little. I'll even start."

Both of the women perk up just a bit. They hide it well, but suddenly, they're all ears. They've been doing this job long enough to know that the devil really is in the details and the smallest one can be the difference between life and death.

"My first kill was quite unintentional. I just wanted her to remember who her son was. Bad enough all the things she did to me as a child. Do you know how much she hurt me? In the name of making me a man? But you know what? I forgave her for that because I loved her. I did. Until she betrayed me. You see mom had this lady friend she worked with. Real pretty. I had a thing for her. She called it stalking. Dear old Mom backed her up. When I went to talk to her about it, asked her why she'd done that, you know what she said?"

His voice was rising, angry now. Her words were rambling together, over-lapping.

"She said she hadn't meant to 'hurt' me." He laughed, near to hysterical with rage. "But I guess I showed her the real meaning of the word. I showed them both. You want to know how long they lasted?"

"Oh, God," Emily said.

"Less than an hour. That's how much their friendship meant to them. The one that had made her betray her son. One hour."

JJ reached down and touched the birthstone ring on her right hand.

"Well now that you know more about me, it's your turn," he said, his voice back to being obscenely chipper.

"No," Emily says.

"Excuse me?"

"You want us to slap each other around so you can get your rocks off, fine, but we're not going to play your stupid mind games."

"Oh, Emily, you've been playing my stupid mind game since the moment I dropped you two into that room. You're my own little science experiment. That means I control the health of my rats. And if I don't like the behavior of my little pets, well then it's easy to end things. Awfully easy."

They know he's right.

"Good. Then let's return to the game. Jennifer, tell me everything about your son."

She doesn't know what to do. The idea of speaking about Henry to this man makes her nauseous beyond words. But is that worth endangering both of their lives?

"His name is Henry."

"A rather old-fashioned name."

"Yes."

"How old is he?"

"Eight months."

"What's his favorite food?"

"Bananas and chocolate pudding." She smiles just a bit when she says this.

"Does he have a favorite toy?"

"A stuffed panda his god-mother gave him."

"Is he holding it right now?"

Suddenly the screen above them turns on and they see live video of Henry in Will's arms. They're at a park watching a game of flag football. The camera zooms in on Henry and sure enough, in Will's other hand is a small stuffed panda.

JJ gasps. She thinks maybe her heart is about to explode as panic surges through her. She almost can't breathe.

"I have colleagues," he says as they watch Will wave the panda in front of Henry's face. Henry laughs. "More like contacts that I've gathered. You see, there are some really sick bastards out there and they're willing to do just about anything for the right price. "

He lets that hang, the implication of something disturbing and murderous in the air. Then, "Anyway, this fellow here just happens to live in New Orleans and was willing to track down the good Detective and your little man. They're cute."

"Leave them alone. Please."

"That's the second time one of you has said 'please'. The first time was when Emily wanted to take the pain. I said 'no' to her then. I'm giving you a choice now."

"What kind of choice?"

"Pain or your son."

She never hesitates. "Pain. Just please…"

"How very noble, Jennifer. How very motherly. Now, Emily," he says. "I want to hear bones break."

The women lock eyes. Emily starts to shake her head. JJ reaches out and grabs Emily's hand. She squeezes it. "My son…"

For a moment, Emily says nothing. She's staring at their hands. She has an idea.

It might help save their lives. It won't save them from the pain.

Slowly, she nods.

* * *

Morgan and Rossi are gone by the time the video feed goes live again. The search in the system came up empty for the warehouse they're looking for, but it seems quite a few blueprints were never transferred to digital . And so they're're off to speak with city officials who can hopefully provide them with the rest of the blueprints. Neither one is feeling too optimistic about the mission but better to be do something than nothing.

The something for the others involves reading and re-reading the evidence and information they do have.

All of that stops when the feed comes on in mid-punch. They realize immediately that this time he's made Emily the attacker and JJ the victim.

They wonder if their profile is wrong. Hadn't they figured that he was trying to mentally break JJ first?

Garcia exits the room almost immediately, leaving only Hotch and Reid to watch.

It takes them both a few minutes to see it, which is understandable considering the amount of violence and pain they're watching. Emily's hitting JJ repeatedly with her right first and JJ is down, crouched low on the ground, arms around her ribs.

They both try to ignore the emotions they're feeling, the pain they're seeing. They try to focus on the little things. Like the TV screen in the background which rather bizarrely seems to be showing an image of Will LaMontagne and Henry.

"Something's wrong with Emily's hand," Reid says, pointing.

"Some kind of spasm?" Hotch wonders, leaning in towards the monitoring and noticing the way her fingers seem to be moving around. Her palm keeps opening and closing. It's jerky and violent, but then everything she's doing is. The really strange thing is, she's keeping her left hand down by her body, as if to hide it. As if it…

"It's sign language," Reid announces, his voice going up. "She's trying to tell us something."

"Do you know how to work this computer?" Hotch asks. Reid shakes his head. "Then get Garcia back in here. We need to go frame by frame."

* * *

He lets her stop when JJ finally passes out from the pain. It seems like it took forever to get to that point. In reality, she figures that it probably took less than ten minutes to get blood all over the both of them. Maybe less than five.

As much as she hates herself for what she's just done, she hopes that the video camera was on and that the team saw every hit.

She hopes that was enough time for them to get the message.

She hopes the message was enough.

She collapses to her knees. She wants to cry. She wants to scream. She wants to throw up.

Instead she settles for putting her head in her hands. He'd made JJ beat her earlier, but that had been nothing compared to this assault.

This had been violent in a way that horrified even her. She wondered how she could even be capable of such…brutality.

Her hands ache terribly. Other parts of her hurt worse.

Suddenly, the door opens. She looks over and sees the man from earlier, the one with the gun.

He steps in. She wonders stupidly if he's brought them food, but then sees he's got nothing with him but the gun.

She thinks about rushing him, but knows she hasn't the strength to do it and with JJ out cold, it'd be pretty useless anyway.

He holds it up to show her. That's when she realizes it's more a revolver than a pistol. He opens the chamber and removes the bullets. He puts two back in, closes it back up and then lays the gun on the floor.

And then he turns and leaves, the door slamming shut behind him.

She looks at the gun in confusion, then glances over to JJ who still isn't moving.

"You'll break before this is over," their captor says suddenly. "But you've come farther than anyone else and for that, I'll give you both the chance to end it yourself."

"And if we don't?" she asks quietly, her trembling hand reaching down to touch JJ's, finding only mild relief at the quick pulse she finds in the blonde's wrist.

"Then I think perhaps you two will have to hurt more than anyone ever has."

"Why?"

"Because you lie better than anyone ever has. It's all a lie, Emily. There is no love. There is family. There is no friendship. There is only pain and hurt and hate."

"They will stop you."

"Your friends that you sent that message to?"

She inhales sharply. "Yes."

"Maybe," he admits and for a moment she thinks he sounds weary and a bit broken himself. "But even if they do, even if they get here in time to save you two from death, I still will have shown you the truth and you'll never forget that."

And then there's darkness and silence.

She drops her head back into her hands, blood mixing with tears. Her shoulders shake, but not a sound is heard.

She doesn't spend a lot of time praying anymore, but right now she is.

She's praying that he's wrong.

Begging really.

Please.

**TBC…**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Here we go again. Apologies for the delays, but as several of you have noted, this is a very difficult piece to write. I want to be sure that there is a method - however sick and disturbed it be - to the madness of this Unsub and I hope it's understandable what - and why - he's doing what he's doing here.**

**Again, the prior warnings apply. This is a very dark piece about human nature and friendship. It pulls no punches and if that's not your cup of tea, I'd stay far away because it is brutal. To all those who have left fantastic feedback and pushed me along, thank you. I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

The good news, she decides – if it can really be called that – is that JJ's been out cold for over an hour. That means time off the clock.

The bad news is that during this time, Emily Prentiss has pretty much torn her soul apart.

She thought she could deal with the guilt of this. She figured she could be as strong as she needed to be and she could figure a way through this. She figured she could find some way to deal.

Make it through twenty-four hours of hell and hopefully come out on the other side and then rationalize that it had all been worth it.

But sixty minutes of staring at her blonde friend lying unconscious on the cold floor, only the rising and falling of her chest serving as a reminder of life, well it's just about enough to make a few screws comes loose.

After all, JJ's that way because of her.

Because of her hands. Her cracked, torn and bloodied hands.

She wonders whom the blood belongs to her. And then she shakes her head to push the thought away.

Once again, she finds herself trying to clear her mind.

She dips her head forward, places in into her hands and with the tips of her fingers rubs at her brow. She can feel a migraine pulsing just behind her eyes, waiting for an opportunity to explode.

Not now, she tells it. Later. When this is all over and we're safe in a bed – probably a hospital one – then it can come out and play all it wants.

Just not right now. Right now, she tells the forming migraine, she needs to think. She needs to concentrate.

She's always been good at locking emotion away so she can't help but wonder why she's having so many issues doing so now.

She looks over and that's when she notices that JJ has finally come to and is now trying to push herself up. And failing badly.

It occurs to her that JJ's been rendered unconscious twice in the last ten hours.

"JJ…let me…"

She reaches for her, but JJ stops her with a shakily outstretched hand.

"No…I can…I can do it…"

And so she backs off, but just a bit. She understands pride, knows damn well that JJ needs to have hers.

She almost says fuck it, though, when she sees JJ's elbows give out and her body sags back to the ground.

Almost. But then JJ starts pushing herself up again. Stubborn. Refusing to break.

Emily looks up at the camera and stares directly into the lens. She hopes he's watching, hopes he knows that if she gets out of this, if she survives, she will come after him.

It occurs to her that maybe she's not as strong as JJ and that's a strange and unexpected thought, indeed.

And yet as she watches JJ, still struggling, refusing to give up and she thinks about how close she is to losing it, she wonders who the tougher of the two really is.

Finally, JJ forces her body up and then slides it against the wall, settling back against it with a sharp hiss of pain being the only sound. When she looks up and Emily catches sight of her bruised and lacerated face, she almost gasps.

She doesn't have long to think about it though before JJ surprises her by chuckling and calling out to the camera. "That was fun. What's next?"

There's no response.

Emily's not surprised. This is part of the game, she now knows for a fact. This is all about being the one running the show.

And a little bit about training.

She hates to think of it that way, but knows that it's accurate. He's conditioning them in some warped half-ass way.

He's making them want him to bring another round of pain just to get it on with.

Because the waiting, the wondering what could possibly be worse – well that IS worse.

She's understanding now, finally getting it.

It's not the pain that's destroying them, it's the recovery.

The moments of quiet and hope. The thoughts of escape and being saved.

They hurt worse than the pain because so far, they – the cavalry – well it hasn't come and there's no evidence that it ever will. Not in time anyway.

She looks up at the camera again. She'd assumed that the camera was for more than just him. She'd assumed that he was pulling a Tobias and sending the video on. That seems logical – his shows are all about proving a point and he wants that point to outlast their eventual deaths.

She had assumed that their teammates back at the BAU were privy to everything.

Now she wonders if she was wrong. If that was just another flash of hope her mind created as well.

No, she tells herself. He had specifically mentioned her sending signals to her friends who were watching.

That means they were.

She decides that she must believe that. She must hold onto that hope.

Because right now, she's beginning to lose faith that she and JJ can do it themselves.

* * *

"She's been knocked out cold twice," Garcia says as she readies the computer for frame by frame playback. "Could she have suffered permanent damage?"

"Hard to say," Hotch replies. "But JJ's tough and she's not going to go down easy. Or at all. She'll fight back. "

He feels like he's said this at least a hundred times today. He's not sure who he's saying it for anymore.

For Garcia? Reid? Himself?

"Okay, we're starting at the first sign," Garcia tells him.

"Play it."

They watch the video for the next twenty minutes, rewinding, freezing, zooming and slowing it down.

Finally, Reid tells them, "She basically said the same thing over and over. It gets sloppier near the end and she misses a few letters, but it's the same one message repeatedly."

"Which is?" Hotch asks thickly, almost afraid.

"He murdered his mother and her friend."

They share a look and then Hotch says, "Garcia…"

"I'm already bringing up the case information, sir. Looking for the sons of the deceased."

"Look specifically at the first pair," Reid tells her. "That's usually the most important one."

"Right."

Her fingers are flying faster now, more confidently. She has a mission, an objective that is clear and obvious.

Emily sent them a clue about their UnSub and maybe if they can find him, they can find them.

There's a new energy in the room.

Describing it as hopeful would be dramatic overkill and yet there's something.

And it does smell a lot like hope.

Hotch holds onto this until he steps outside of the room for a moment and Reid joins him.

"There was more," Hotch says, understanding the pensive look on Reid's face. He almost asks why Reid felt the need to have this conversation away from Garcia, but stops himself short – that answer is obvious; they're trying to keep her focused on the answer and not the problem.

It'd be too easy for her – for all of them really – to get lost in the very idea of the nightmare that JJ and Emily are stuck in. They need to focus on the reality of the situation and that is that as long as they are still alive, there's still a chance to get to them in time.

Reid nods slowly.

"What else did she say?"

"She said…'we're okay for now, but not much longer. '"

Hotch feels a lot of things surge through him, many of them indescribable. He's not at all surprised by what Reid tells him.

Not even a little bit surprised.

Just scared.

It's not a feeling he cares for at all.

* * *

Another hour passes before he speaks again and when he does, he starts with a cliché'.

"They say true beauty is about what's on the inside, not the outside," his voice is calm, but there's an undeniable hint of exhaustion in it. JJ wonders if maybe he's not enjoying this as much as he thought he would.

She wonders if maybe he's not so good at losing.

That thought frankly scares her to death because she can relate.

And normally, for her, the fear of losing causes her to just try harder. To push more, to do whatever needs to be done.

"Tell me, Agent Jareau," he continues, "Do you consider yourself to be a beautiful woman."

She doesn't respond; she's not sure how she's supposed to. She looks over at Emily, who is leaning against the wall.

"Now, now, don't be humble. The truth."

"I…I am not unattractive," she hedges. She's uncomfortable with this line of questioning and she knows he knows it.

"Come now, Agent Jareau, you're gorgeous. Beautiful blonde hair, stunning blue eyes and flawless skin."

Another look passes between she and Emily. They both wonder where this is going.

"But on the inside, you're different aren't you? You're a different person."

"I'm not sure what answer you want."

"I want the truth, of course. I want you to admit that you know all of this is a lie."

"All of what?"

"This idea that love will conquer all," he replies with a snide tone. "You both really want me to believe you can get through this because you're both just the very best of friends. But I know the truth and so do you, Agent Jareau. Given the chance, given the option between your life and hers, you'd let her die in a moment, wouldn't you?"

"No," JJ answers, looking over at Emily.

"Oh very good. A very persuasive lie. But a lie just the same. And liars should be exposed. I think it's time for you to stop hiding all of your ugliness on the inside, don't you? It's time for everyone to see it."

JJ closes her eyes. She understands now. The bruises on her face will all fade within a few days; nothing will be permanent.

He intends to change that.

He intends to make Emily change that.

She speaks without opening her eyes, "It's going to bleed a lot," she tells Emily. "Facial wounds always do, but you have to keep going no matter how much blood there is, no matter how much I cry out. You have to keep going."

She can feel Emily's eyes on her, but she's not willing to open her own.

She hears him say, "There's a scalpel in the bag, Emily."

* * *

Hotch has never been so happy to see Kevin Lynch.

At first, upon the sight of the young man – Garcia's beau – he wanted to explode. In his defense, Kevin had come to offer his assistance, not to be in the way. But this had all seemed too personal, something that an outsider had no right to view.

When the cutting begins, however, shallow quick strikes against the flesh, he realizes that there are more important things.

Like protecting his people.

Garcia is crumbling in front of him.

Shredding at the sight of her two friends being forced to damage each other.

And so finally, "Garcia, I want you to concentrate on the first case, the first victims. I want everything on them. You can use my office for the quiet."

"But, sir, who will handle the feed here?"

"Kevin knows how to use your system, right?"

She glances over at Kevin, who looks just a little bit green around the gills. "Yes."

"Good. Kevin, you're in. Garcia, we need that information. We find the son, we find them."

It seems so simple to say that and it might not even be the truth, but it's something for her to cling to and that, too, is his job.

Giving his people hope.

He's not typically a man for false hopes, but he's willing to go there for her.

She leaves quickly, laptop under her arm.

He turns to Kevin. "Record everything. If you see anything strange, anything that looks like a sign to us, let us know."

"Where are you going?" Kevin asks, eyes glued to a scene of unimaginable horror. He thinks that maybe he'll never get the image of Emily Prentiss standing over a bloodied Jennifer Jareau with a scalpel out of his mind. Ever.

"Morgan and Rossi just got back. They have blueprints with them. We're going to try to match them to the schematics of the room JJ and Prentiss are in."

"Okay."

"Kevin?

"Sir?

"Can you do this?"

Kevin swallows, desperately, emphatically wants to say no. Instead, because he suddenly finds that he can't speak at all, he simply nods.

* * *

She's confused when he ends the cutting after only half a dozen quick strikes. They were bloody, sure, but hardly deep. She thinks maybe he did it just to show JJ that he could. Just to inflict one more layer of pain and guilt on both of them.

She admits to herself that it's worked. She can feel her hands trembling.

In her head, she's already going through her mental Rolodex for a plastic surgeon she can refer JJ to one.

One she can pay to have the wounds she's inflicted on her blonde friend removed. She wonders if that will be enough to remove her own scars.

She looks over at JJ, whose face is once again shielded by curtains of blonde hair and she wonders what she's thinking.

Is she thinking of an escape plan or wondering what her body will look like when it's found?

Is she thinking of what her mother will say when she hears about her death or is she contemplating how to survive another attack?

Is she beginning to think more about death than life?

She wonders if her mind would be in a different place if he'd let her to continue to be the one being hurt instead of the one doing most of the hurting.

She thinks that she could have dealt with the pain, but this? She looks at her still trembling hands, at the blood on them. She's not sure she can handle any more of JJ's blood staining her skin.

She feels her stomach churn.

It takes everything in her not to throw up.

* * *

"This is going to take too long," Morgan growls, tossing away a blue print that doesn't even begin to match.

"We have to go through them," Hotch urges.

Morgan wants to scream. He wants to do a lot of things.

He's sick to God of being helpless like this.

Reid and Tobias. Penelope and Battle. Emily and Cyrus.

Now JJ, Emily and this crazy fuck without a name.

He has no real desire to be hurt or feel pain, but he rather wishes that one of these lunatics would bring it to him instead.

He can handle it.

He shakes his head.

It's not like that.

He knows that JJ and Emily are strong. Stronger than most men. Maybe stronger than even him.

But he's not built like this. Not built to stand around and patiently wait for someone to return his friends – his family – to him.

He's not built not to tear someone apart for hurting the people he loves.

He runs his hand over his bald head and thinks about how much he'd like a cigarette. He remembers that he hasn't smoked in fifteen years.

"Morgan?"

He looks up, sees Hotch, Rossi and Reid watching him. "I'm sorry," he says. "I'm going to go check on Garcia, see how she's doing."

"Okay," Hotch nods, like it was a good idea, like it was his idea. Morgan's immediately thankful for the save. Thankful that Hotch understands that he can't just flip through a stack of blueprints and do nothing else.

He heads up towards Hotch's office and knocks on the door, "Hey Baby Girl," he says softly, taking a step inside.

"Hey, honey," she replies.

"Anything?"

"Working on it."

He blinks, just a bit surprised. Garcia's been up in this office for almost twenty minutes now. He's seen her pull figurative rabbits out of her hats in a fraction of a fraction of that time.

As if reading his mind, she says, "They both had children. One of them had three sons, the other one. I'm trying to go through it all before I say anything."

"Okay."

He touches her shoulder. She puts a hand over his and squeezes.

"Is there anything I can do for you? Get for you?" he asks.

"Coffee," she says without thinking.

"Right, coffee," he replies, remembering that coffee started all of this.

She looks up at him, eyes wide and apologetic. He forces a smile and quickly makes his exit.

* * *

They're down to fourteen hours to go. She tries to do the math in her head, but it takes longer than normal thanks to all of the cobwebs that are forming around the edges of her mind.

She's been tasered twice, beaten unconscious once and cut up once more. It's enough to cause a bit of mental fogginess, she admits to herself.

Still, JJ pushes it back, Concentrates on the time.

By her recollection, they'd left the office at just after eight-thirty in the morning to get coffee. They'd probably spent ten minutes there before being abducted and then maybe another couple of hours before he'd even started the clock in motion.

A voice in the back of her mind says that's cheating. She almost laughs. Almost.

In any case, that means that it's somewhere between eight and nine at night.

This would be easier, she thinks, if he hadn't taken their watches from them.

The quiet sound of her name being uttered breaks her out of her thoughts. She turns towards Emily, sees dark eyes staring at her.

"Yeah?"

"It's going to get worse," Emily says softly. "You know that, right?"

It's honestly hard for her to imagine worse. The pain she feels radiating through her body is unlike anything she's ever felt before.

And yet she knows that Emily is right.

"Yeah, I know."

"Can we survive this?"

"I hope so."

Emily turns to look at her, "I need you to listen, okay?"

JJ shakes her head. "No."

"What?"

"We're not having this discussion."

Again, "What?"

"You want to tell me how much I mean to you and how sorry you are and that's all fine and dandy, but Em, that sounds like the end to me…"

"JJ…"

"…and the end means we lost. It means he won and I won't accept that. I didn't allow myself to get the shit beat out me to not come out of this alive. Do you understand?"

"JJ…"

"Emily, my son. I am not letting him grow up without me, okay? I'm not because you know what will happen if he does? He'll learn to talk like Will does and no one in the world will understand what the hell he's saying. And maybe he'll forget me. I mean, I'm sure Will will show him pictures of me, but Henry will never really know who I was how much I love him and I won't let that happen. I won't."

She feels the tears streaming down her face.

"I'm sorry."

"There will be time enough for that later. For both of us," JJ replies, swiping a hand past her eyes. "But right now, we have to be strong. We have. We are not losing to him."

"We'll see about that," he says softly. "Both of you, stand up."

They look at each other and then both, with great effort, move to their feet. Emily winces as the burned soles of her feet connect with the floor.

"We're going to play a little game now. I always find this one very interesting. Have either of you ever been strangled before?"

Neither says a thing, but they're both starting to have a really bad feeling about this. Well, worse than the bad feelings they're already having anyway.

"I hear it's a very erotic experience," he chuckles.

"You are one sick fuck," Emily finally snaps, glaring up at the camera.

"Oh, you have no idea, but you're about to. Emily, my dear, I want you to put your hands around your good friend JJ's throat and squeeze."

"No," she replies, shaking her head. She looks over at JJ and repeats, "No."

"Excuse me?" there was none of his prior gentle goading in his voice. Just anger.

"You want to play your game, fine. Let her do it to me."

"Oh, no, no, no, Emily, I call the plays here, not you."

"Please. You want to get your rocks off, you're still going to, okay? Please."

"Em…"

"Please, JJ, I can't..."

"Em, you have to."

"Listen to her, Emily. You have ten seconds to begin or I end the game. Your choice."

"Emily, for God's sakes," JJ says. "Just do it. It'll be over quick enough."

Slowly, horrified, furious, Emily reaches forward and put a hand on either side of JJ's throat. And then she closes her eyes and squeezes.

It starts as just mild discomfort for JJ and then there's a rush of almost incredible sensation – a bit like flying. The light-headedness is odd, but not completely unenjoyable and for just the slightest of moments, it feels a bit exciting, but then panic – the understanding that she can't breathe – sets in.

As the darkness seeps around the edges of her vision and she begins struggling for air, she thinks she can hear voices.

"Keep going…"

"Please…I'm going to kill her…"

"Keep going…"

And then other ones, belonging to people who couldn't possibly be in the same room.

Her mother, her father, her soccer coach.

Hotch, Morgan, Reid.

Will.

Are they saying "fight?" She's not sure. She can't tell. It's all merging together.

Then she hears Henry saying a word he hadn't yet said. "Momma."

She sees the darkness around her getting thicker, deeper, fuller…

She hears the word, "please" again. Wonders whom it's coming from.

Wonders where the hell she is. She can't remember, can't understand. She just knows she had to get out of this situation, make it stop.

She isn't going out like this.

Not without a fight.

The black in her vision turns to red and then she suddenly jerks forward, catching Emily off-guard.

As she slams her brunette friend to the ground and starts pounding her against it, over and over again, she can swear she hears laughing.

She isn't sure who it belongs to, but damned if it doesn't sound just a bit familiar.

**TBC…**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **Once again, apologies for the grotesque delays. I can blame real life, but well, that's fairly obvious, ya? Anyway, here it is. Just a note- this one is more emotional than brutal - it's the moment that we've been (hopefully) building to. You'll notice that it feeds back into the first chapter of this piece. I hope it's worthy of the long wait and that you enjoy it. Feedback and commentary is, as always, quite welcomed. I would advise re-reading from the beginning if it's been a bit.

**Content Warning: **Once again, this is a very dark piece- if that's not your thing, stay away. You have been warned.

**Thanks to: Kris for the prodding, J for being my constant writing mate. Your turn, dudes.**

* * *

Emily Prentiss has been hit before. Hit hard. More times than she cares to admit if she's honest with herself.

Still, this is different.

So much different and so much worse.

She feels her body falls backwards as JJ slams her against the floor, screaming incomprehensibly. Actually, it sounds like more of a tortured almost maniacal laugh. It's more than a little horrifying.

She doesn't have long to think about it before her head connects with the hard cold floor. After the astonishment fades a bit and the blinding pain of being pummeled sets in, her instincts return to her. Razor sharp. She puts her arms up, blocking her face, taking the frenzied blows to her forearms instead.

Thankfully, JJ's missing more than she's connecting. Unfortunately, the connections hurt like hell.

"JJ!" she cries out. "JJ, it's me! JJ, stop!"

She grunts as the back of her head again connects with the ground and a cloak of blackness overwhelms her vision for a moment. Finally, she manages to choke out," JJ, please…"

She's not even a little surprised when the blonde doesn't cease her violent assault. She tries to look into her dear friend's blue eyes, tries to find some sense of self there, but all she sees is fear. Fear and pain and hurt.

JJ's been through hell during the last eleven hours.

They both have.

But JJ, well their captor, he's been really focusing on her. He seems to think that the key to destroying them is to break the "pretty one" first.

And maybe he's right.

Not because JJ is weaker, but because he seems to have a talent – a sick and macabre gift you could even say - for truly understanding his victims.

She hates that word, especially in reference to herself.

It feels wrong, but she knows it's not.

She and JJ, they're his victims. Even if they survive this, he will have taken something from them both. She's not quite ready to define what "something" is yet, but she knows that they'll both have to fight like hell to get it back.

And maybe they'll fail.

God, maybe they'll actually fail.

That's just the truth of things, no matter how much she rails against it.

It's amazing to her that so much could have happened in such a short amount of time. It's been less than fourteen hours since they were both tasered unconscious in the parking lot of the coffee shop.

It's an incredible thing to think about – if she could spare the thought, which right now, as she tries to keep herself from blacking out, is actually fairly hard to do.

So much pain and hurt in such an ordinary slice of life.

All of it made so much worse by the fact that they know what he's doing to them and they're helpless to stop him.

They know that he's turning them on each other, pushing them to an edge that they have always known existed, but never believed they'd be standing on.

After all, it's one thing to stand over the deep dark canyon and makes observations about how horrible it looks inside, it's another to actually descend into it and realize that you don't have a way out.

"JJ," she calls out again as she just manages to duck a right hook to the jaw. "JJ, stop, please. JJ! Stop!"

She feels the balled fist against her ribs and this time, she comes perilously close to passing out. All that keeps her conscious is the fear that if she lets the shadows of pain take her, she might not ever wake up again.

The fear that if she lets go, nothing will stop JJ from killing her.

Because right now, JJ sure as hell isn't stopping herself.

Panic overwhelming everything else (including the explosive pain in her skull), and with all of the energy she has left in her, she shoves out and amazingly, JJ tumbles away and ends up on her back, limbs everywhere.

There's a brief moment where no one moves and then suddenly, JJ glances down at her blood soaked hands and then looks back up, her blue eyes wide.

Horrified. Utterly sickened by herself and what she's just done.

Emily knows the feeling pretty damn well by now.

"JJ…"

"Oh, God…" She's looking at her hands again.

"JJ, no…"

But JJ doesn't want to hear it. She puts her hands up as if to push Emily away and then falls backward, wrapping herself into a tight ball, head in her arms. Shaking violently.

There's a sound there, too.

A terrible gasping noise.

She's crying. She's breaking.

He's winning. The son of a bitch is actually winning.

And they're absolutely helpless to stop him.

The sound JJ is making, it's hysterical and horrible and no matter the terrible pain Emily is in, she knows that she can't let it continue. She has to make it stop.

She pushes herself up and moves towards JJ.

She doesn't get a step before she hears, "Stop."

Her head swivels up. "What?"

"Leave her alone."

"Fuck you," she snaps, her body leaning again, moving towards JJ's trembling form. All she's thinking about is how to get to JJ, how to stop the breakdown, how to convince her that they can get through this.

That somehow or another, they will.

They have to.

"Later," he answers coolly and her stomach violently seizes as for the briefest of moments, she considers what he means by that. "But for now, I'll settle for controlling you like the good little bitch you are."

She's just about done with him. Every instinct in her is telling her to tell him where he can shove his control, but thankfully, the one part of her that doesn't always lead to trouble – her brain – takes over.

She stops moving, becomes very still.

"Good," he comments, intentionally making it sound like a master reinforcing the behavior of his new puppy. Her hands clench, her fingers digging into her palm. She winces a bit; her shredded hands burn with each little movement. "Now, sit back down."

She doesn't.

"Emily, sit."

Slowly, her head throbbing with each movement, she does as ordered. It occurs to her that at the very least, she's suffered an ugly concussion thanks to the many times that JJ whacked her head against the ground.

"You know you can't help her, right? You must know that."

"I can always help her."

Weary, but defiantly furious.

Though inwardly, not nearly as certain as she sounds (or hopes she sounds).

"Really? Look at her, Emily. She's broken. She's done and we both know it. Had you not thrown her off you, she would have gladly beaten you to death and probably not even known it. Your 'friend', she's not there anymore."

"No." She hears the waver in her own voice.

"Yes. Look at her Emily. Look at her."

She tries not to, but she can't stop herself. She turns her head, sees that JJ is still curled tight on the ground, body shaking almost like she's in the middle of an epileptic seizure.

"I can help her," she says softly, urgently, tears stinging her eyes.

"You can't. No one can. Not in time anyway."

"No…I can…" most of the certainty is gone now.

Maybe it's the way JJ is rocking herself, now on her side, almost in the fetal position.

"Oh, Emily, I almost admire your stubbornness, but come on, it's time to face reality. It's over for her. She won't play the game anymore – she can't. And if she can't, that means you both lose. That means you both die. Those are the rules."

This hits Emily far harder than she had expected it to. For a moment, her head swims as she struggles to breathe through her sudden fear. She looks over at JJ again, sees none of the fight there. Instead, just a small and horribly broken woman.

She's done a lot of reading in her time, some of it about torture. She thinks about the stories of soldiers surviving horrendous amounts of torture over extended periods of time. They're never the same, but they find a way to survive. They find a way to make it home alive.

Sometimes, though, sometimes they have to do horrible things to make that happen. Horrible, unforgivable things.

She figures she and JJ have already crossed the line.

She closes her eyes.

This wasn't how she'd figured it to go. She'd thought that if they'd lost, it would be because one of them finally refused to hurt the other one, not because one of them broke apart and couldn't fight any longer.

She'd thought they were both stronger than this.

"But maybe, " he says suddenly, pulling her away from her thoughts. "Maybe you can save yourself."

She hates herself for doing it, but she can't quite stop herself from looking up at the camera as if to ask him to explain what he means by that.

* * *

They have no idea what's happening in that horrible room that Emily and JJ are locked away in. The camera had turned off almost immediately after Emily had pushed JJ away and the blonde had crumbled to the ground.

They have no idea what's happening, but they have their imaginations and in some ways, that's much worse.

In others, they fear that's there's simply no possible way that whatever they could dream up could be worse than the reality.

"Do we have anything on the sons of the first victims yet?" Hotch asks, his voice very low. He's standing with the other men of the BAU – Morgan, Reid and Rossi – above Kevin Lynch, who is trying to stare right through the computer screen in front of him, his eyes glassy and wide.

Mentally, Hotch makes a note to remember to order Kevin to see the department shrink when this is all over. He has a feeling that they will all need to spend some time on the talking couch.

"I'll check in with Penelope," Morgan replies, an unmistakable exhaustion in his tone. He turns and exits the room.

Hotch watches for a moment, frowning slightly at the way Morgan moves. Typically, Derek is the kind of man whose very gait is defining. Strong and full of confidence. This is different.

It looks…afraid.

Derek Morgan looks afraid.

And there's just everything – _everything_ – wrong with that.

"What are you thinking about?" Rossi queries.

Hotch turns to him. "I'm thinking about how this is all we have," he says simply.

"What do you mean?" Reid asks, concern creasing his brow. He steals a glance over to the frozen image on Kevin's monitor, the one of JJ curled into a trembling ball and Emily kneeling a few feet away, beaten, blood seeping into her eyes from a heinous looking cut on the side of her head.

"We're out of ideas and running low on time," Hotch replies, keeping his voice even. "Every lead we've followed has run dry and there's less than 14 hours on the clock. That may seem like a lot of time, but it's nothing. The only reason we're even remotely in this…" he pauses just a moment before he spits out…"game is because he's letting us watch. If we can't at least ID our Unsub, then we have no chance of catching up to him before the clock runs out."

"You don't think they'll survive on their own" Rossi notes. It's a statement not a question.

"They're strong," Hotch replies.

"But?"

Hotch looks over towards the computer screen, notes that both Reid and Kevin are still staring at it.

"They're not built to be able to survive this. No one is really, but I think maybe it's worse for them. I think maybe that's the true sickness of this game – the ones that actually have the kind of relationship that he doesn't believe exists, they're the ones who can deal with this kind of game the least. They're the ones he tries to destroy the most."

Reid steps towards the screen, stares at it. "He's succeeding."

* * *

It's a strange and weird and horrible thing to feel yourself breaking.

Especially if you're _aware_ of it.

Jennifer Jareau is.

Truth is, she never believed it possible.

She's been through so much in her thirty-two years of life – seen so damned much. The good, the bad and the truly and often indescribably barbaric.

And to this point, she has survived it all. With a few deeply etches scars and wounds, sure, but just the same.

But this, this is wrecking her.

Because this horror – this awful nightmare – it's happening to her.

She thinks about Elle. Thinks about the Fisher King shooting her and then putting his fingers into her open wound – invading her body in a way that somehow seems even more perverse than simple sexual rape. She thinks about how Elle had never recovered from that assault and how she had shattered her own soul in the name of not ever being afraid of another man.

She thinks about Reid and that horrible barn. Thinks about Tobias and the drugs and how that corrosive liquid bliss had followed Reid back to DC like a homeless, but rabid puppy. She thinks about the NA meetings Reid makes sure to never miss, the ones he's afraid to skip for fear of falling off the wagon. She thinks about how afraid he is that maybe he's weaker than anyone knows.

She thinks about Garcia. Thinks about a man standing ten feet away from her, staring back at her hopeful face, a gun in his out-stretched hand. Thinks about the precious seconds of innocence that must have passed between Garcia seeing the gun and realizing – just as the bullet had slammed into her – what was about to happen. She thinks about how Garcia can't sleep now unless every light in her apartment is on and all of the windows are locked shut.

She thinks that they're all a little bit broken.

She thinks maybe she's got them beat by a country mile right about now.

She can feel herself coming apart at the seams.

The physical pain she feels is horrendous (everything burns, aches and throbs in a way that almost defies description), but the fear is unbearable.

Not only the fear of death – though that's horrible, true.

It's the other fear though - the one of what she's capable of – that's the one that's destroying her.

Because he's right. It tears at her to admit it, but he's right; left to her own devices, she very well might have beaten Emily to death.

And maybe not have even realized it until it was all over.

So what then of Henry, she asks herself. How can she ever possibly be a good mother to him with that kind of – filth - inside of her? She wonders how she will ever (assuming the opportunity) be able to look at her son again. Doesn't he deserve so much better than a personal capable of almost killing her best friend?

She can hear them talking now. He's telling Emily that she can save herself.

She hears Emily say, "How?"

Her heart sinks.

And then anger floods her. It clears her senses, shoves the cobwebs in her brain away.

The anger quickly turns to a kind of resigned sadness.

But she doesn't let them know, she keeps her head low. They don't seem to notice that she's stopped moving, is suddenly holding herself very still.

Listening.

Waiting for the inevitable betrayal.

Not that she'll blame Emily when it comes. After all, she did it first.

"I'll give you one chance to save yourself," he says, a strange hint of amusement in his tone. "Just one. It won't come again."

"How?" Emily asks again, her voice thick with emotion.

"The gun you were given before. Pick it up, shoot her between the eyes. Kill her. If you do, I'll let you go. I'll let you live."

JJ swallows hard, her gut turning to ice. Her body suddenly feels very heavy and strange to her. She's not sure she could move it if she wanted to.

"Why?" Emily demands. "This isn't your usual game."

"You're not my usual…rats."

There's a pause, a claustrophobic thickness to the air. And then Emily says softly, "How long do I have to think about it?"

"Five minutes," he replies immediately.

"And if I refuse?"

"Then the game goes on and the odds are pretty good that you'll both be dead within the hour."

"Give me the five minutes," Emily answers.

JJ inhales sharply.

She has no doubt of the eventual answer.

It's almost over.

She's a bit amazed when she realizes that she's not sure how she feels about that.

* * *

"Hotch," Morgan says, rushing into the room, an almost crazed look in his eyes. "Garcia found something."

"What?" Hotch asks, just a tinge of excitement in his voice. The others gather close, a sense of urgency invading the room.

That time is short is obvious. That they feel that they're already out of time is something that each of them is keeping to themselves.

As long as there are no bodies and the video feed keeps snapping on, they're willing to hold out hope for a miracle.

It's all they have.

"A name," Morgan replies.

"A name," Reid repeats, taking a print-out from him and speed reading through it.

"Garrett Holloway. He's the only son of Anne-Marie Holloway, one of the first victims."

"Why does she think it's him?" Rossi queries, leaning over to look at the print-out.

"A couple things – first, after the first murders, Garrett was interviewed as a person of interest."

"Why?"

"Public arguments with his mother," Kevin answers, pointing towards his computer screen. He smiles just a bit at the looks they give him, like they'd forgotten that he was there. "At her place of business. Uh, according to the interviews they did with Mrs. Holloway's co-workers, they had had turbulent relationship."

"Okay, what came out of the interview?" Hotch asks.

Reid looks down at the print-out. "Direct quote is 'Mr. Holloway's moods fluxuated constantly during the interview. At times he seemed calm and disinterested, at others times he was inconsolable and visibly disturbed. He professed a strong relationship with his mother, but then seemed angry with her."

"Why didn't they think he was their guy then?" Rossi queries.

"Not enough physical evidence to tie him to it," Morgan answers.

"Sounds like they missed it," Rossi muses.

"Okay, what else?" Hotch pushes on. Now isn't the time to debate the deficiencies of the investigation practices of the local PDs. Surely, there will be time for that later.

"He had a restraining order taken out on him by a previous girlfriend. She's since left the state, no forwarding address. Garcia wasn't able to find her which might mean that she managed to hide well or..."

"That she's dead," Rossi finishes dully.

Morgan nods. They're all thinking the same thing.

"Anything else?" Hotch says, his voice much softer now.

Somehow, time just got a whole lot shorter.

"And, he's currently the only child from the original two women who lives here in DC. And who has a home – a warehouse converted into a loft– that is less than two miles away from the coffee shop that JJ and Em were taken from."

"Address. Now," Hotch snaps.

Kevin spins in his chair, a piece of paper already in hand.

"Backup?" Rossi asks.

"Already en route," Kevin answers, typing away.

"Have them wait a couple blocks down."

"Yes, sir."

"Morgan?"

"I'll let Garcia know she did good when we return with the ladies. She won't want to hear it until then."

Hotch nods. "Let's go."

* * *

He lets her have fifteen minutes, not just five.

Somehow, waiting to give him such a horrible answer makes it that much worse.

She looks up at the clock on the wall, the one that says they have less than twelve hours to go.

It shocks her to realize that they're not going to make it.

She'd really thought that they were stronger than this.

She'd really thought that they were better friends than this.

She'd really thought that they had meant more to each other than this.

Apparently, she'd been wrong on all counts.

"Emily," he says, his voice silky with the thrill of imminent victory.

She ignores him for a moment, her eyes on JJ. The blonde has moved a little; she's no longer wrapped in a ball. Instead, she's sitting on the ground, back to the wall, head down, as if afraid to make eye contact. Dim and near to non-existent though the lighting of the room be, the various injuries that JJ has suffered stand out in sharp contrast to her fair features.

It's then that realizes she hasn't seen JJ's eyes since JJ had been atop her, hitting her.

"Emily," he says again.

She looks up at the camera and realizes that it's taking every bit of strength she has to stay on her feet. She lifts a hand to her face and touches a stream of blood that is slowly seeping down her cheek. Suddenly, all she wants is to lie down and close her eyes and make all of this go away.

Make it all just a nightmare that she can wake up form.

"What's your decision?" he demands and she knows in that moment that there is no waking up from this nightmare.

Ever.

No matter the choice she makes right now.

She looks back over at JJ.

"Emily." His tone is like that of an impatient, but humoring parent. He thinks he's won this.

He's right. He has.

"If I do this, you'll let me live?"

"Yes."

"Why should I believe you?"

"I'd have thought you'd already know the answer to that, Emily, but just in case you don't, I'll spell it out for you. Usually, I get to sit back and watch all of these so-called friendships shred to pieces and then afterwards, everyone dies. No one ever has to live with their sins. And normally, that's okay because it wasn't real anyway. But this, this is somehow more beautiful because I think that it was real." He laughs. "Congratulations ladies, you convinced me – you care about each other. Or at least you did. But everything breaks. People, love, friendship. Everything. And when it's over, all there is is debris and pain. Now, Emily, I want you to live with that. The question my dear Agent Prentiss is, can you do it?"

Emily turns slightly and looks back over at JJ. She's shocked to see that the blonde is now looking right back at her. She tries to read her, but the media liaison's face is devoid of emotion.

Whatever she's thinking, whatever's going on in there (if anything at all), she's not showing it.

It's all just…blank and empty.

As if reading her mind, he says softly, "There's nothing there, Emily. She's given in. She'll get you both killed with her weakness, but it doesn't have to be like that. You can live."

"Live with my sins," she whispers, more to herself then him.

"Yes. Or die senselessly. Are you ready to die? She is. Are you?"

She tries to meet JJ's eyes, not sure what she's looking for.

Everything is so jumbled and confused in her head and that alone makes no sense. She's stronger than this; their friendship, it's more than this. Right?

A pounding pain in the back of her skull quickly turns to a brightly searing pain as she tries to find an answer. She fights against the urge to throw up.

She takes a moment to feel the waves of pain radiating up and down her body.

She wants it to stop.

God, she just wants it to stop.

She realizes then how wrong she's been, how very wrong she's always been.

She's not strong.

She's a weak pathetic coward and she's afraid.

Afraid of death.

She's always thought of herself as vaguely philosophical about things. She reads constantly, loves to discuss ideas and concepts and theories. But death has always stepped outside of that bubble. Death is something she deals with every day and yet, she has always keep the reality of it at arms' length.

The job has helped with that.

They show up after the murders start and leave before the funerals do. They don't have to deal with the aftermath, just the reports.

It's allowed her to make death a statistic.

There's the other part of it as well, the personal part.

The religious part.

At times, when he mind wanders, she can't help but wonder if she's damned for all time due to her many failures and mistakes.

Due to her many sins.

Assuming there is a God, would He really welcome her home?

And if He doesn't, what then?

_What then?_

Panic fills her. She doesn't want to die. She can't die. She can't.

She's just not strong enough.

She's not sure how the gun gets in her hand, but suddenly, there it is. Cold and hard in her sweaty bloody palm. Her fingers close over the metal, brush against the trigger. She feels tears stinging her eyes and for a moment, everything blurs together into a giant smear of tears and pain.

"Good choice, Emily," her unseen tormentor tells her and she can hear the gloating in his tone. "Now, end this."

She closes her eyes for just a moment and then slowly, deliberately, she steps towards JJ, her legs suddenly obscenely heavy.

Less than a foot away, she kneels down in front of JJ (who has suddenly - thankfully - closed her eyes) and holds up the gun, her hand shaking. She has to use both hands to steady the revolver.

She thinks maybe she should tell JJ that she's so sorry for this, but why bother? Wouldn't that be more for her than JJ? And would it really help anyway?

How can anything help the cold-blooded murder of one's best friend?

"I can't do this," she suddenly says.

"You can," he assures her. "You're a survivor, Emily. There's no shame in being a survivor. I'm one. So are you."

"No," she replies, her voice dull. "If we're going to do this, if I'm going to do this, let's call it what it really is. Let's call us what we really are."

"All right, let's. What are we, Emily?"

Dully, "We're monsters. " A beat and then softly, "I'm a monster." She lifts the gun up, moves it towards JJ's forehead.

"No, you're not," JJ suddenly whispers.

Emily looks up and sees those deep blue eyes are open now and locked onto her brown ones, looking into her soul. She shudders, suddenly feeling very exposed.

And then abruptly, unexpectedly, JJ's hand is atop hers, lowering the gun. Emily looks down at their joined palms, both of the torn and bloody. She notices that JJ is missing a fingernail and two others are chipped.

"He's wrong, Emily. He's wrong. About everything. You're no more a monster than I am and we're not giving up. We're not."

"JJ…" she whispers, her voice pleading even though she's not sure what question she's trying to ask.

"We have a deal, Emily," their captor hisses, the speakers squealing with his the annoyance of victory delayed.

"We will get through this together," JJ insists, reaching forward, wrapping an arm around her and pulling the brunette to her. Emily feels her body scream in protest as her broken ribs grind together painfully and yet she doesn't dare pull away.

"JJ," Emily whispers, trying to tell her everything in just one that word. Trying to tell her just how truly sorry she is. Trying to express just how much she hates herself for what she'd been about to do.

"Save it," JJ answers. "We'll both apologize for everything later. Once we're both out of here. You hear me? Both of us."

"This is your last chance, Emily."

It's JJ who looks up at the camera, not Emily and miraculously, however improbably, there's still a fire in her bright blue eyes. It's exhausted and anguished, but somehow, still there. "We're both still in the game, asshole. Keep it coming."

Emily can't help but smile just a bit at the taunt. It almost immediately turns to a grimace and then to a choked sob as she buries her head into JJ's shoulder. Neither of them seems all that interested in breaking the frantic embrace.

They both seem to realize that it's the only weapon they have left; their only line of defense.

"I had thought better of you, Em-"

He breaks off mid-sentence and suddenly, the room is silent.

Reluctantly, the women break away from each other. They look around, wondering just what the hell happened.

And as they do, the notice that once again, there's a distance between them. Suddenly, the strength ebbs away from both of them and neither seems physically capable of continuing the fight.

They lock eyes, everything they've done and now not done standing between them.

And though they'd never admit it to each other, they both can't help but wonder if maybe allowing him – and by default, death - to win would have been easier.

* * *

"Sir," the SWAT Commander says as he approaches. "We're ready."

"Are we picking up any heat signatures?" Hotch asks.

"No, we're getting blocked by some kind of metal walling."

"Understood." Hotch checks the straps on his vest again, does a quick visual inspection of the rest of his team and then nods to them. "Let's bring my people home."

* * *

They're not expecting the door to suddenly open, but when it does, they see two men there. One is the strange minion lackey from earlier. The other, they both know immediately, has to be their Unsub.

"They're here aren't they," Emily exclaims. "Our team has come for us."

He smiles. "They are, but you'll never see them. The game is over."

The Unsub moves towards them, his assistance right behind them, both of them holding tasers in their hands. Emily and JJ exchange a horrified look - could this really happen this way? Could their team be so close and yet still arrive too late?

Both women try to fight – Emily even manages to land a punch to the Unsub's face – but neither has the strength to stop the electrical currents from surging through them.

The last thing Emily feels before she passes out is JJ the pressure of JJ squeezing her hand tight.

* * *

"They were here," Morgan whispers dully, looking around the room where less than fifteen minutes earlier, his two teammates had been.

The floors and walls are soaked with blood and there's a taser lying on the ground. He eyes track up to a camera on the wall.

"He couldn't have taken them far," Rossi insists. "We staked out the entire grounds. He has to be somewhere around this warehouse district- somewhere right around here."

Hotch pulls out his phone, dials, "Garcia, " he says into the handset, his tone a frantic plea. "We need a miracle."

* * *

JJ comes awake first and immediately realizes that somehow or another, things have gone from bad to worse.

They're both lying on the cold ground in what looks like a freezer. And God is it freezing.

Everything hurts and everything aches.

She coughs and tastes a bit of blood on her lips.

She turns slightly, wincing, and sees Emily lying face down. With one hand, she reaches out, rolls Emily over and manages to find a pulse.

She's only slightly relieved.

As she looks around, she sees the gym bag on the floor. It's open, exposing the gun. She laughs bitterly; he left them the fucking gun.

He still thinks they'll quit. He still thinks they'll give up.

"JJ," a voice says. She turns, realizing that Emily has come to.

"Shh," she whispers. "We're okay."

"I see colors," Emily tells her. "Do you see colors?"

JJ thinks about the many times that she slammed Emily against the ground, thinks about the horrific concussion she probably suffered. Getting tasered has probably made it even worse. She'd be amazed if Emily could sit up even a little without throwing up.

"No," she replies.

"I'm so tired," Emily sighs.

"I know," JJ replies, wincing again in pain. Her eyes skitter back towards the gun.

Only the sound of a violent seizure of coldness and pain going through Emily's body returns her to the present.

"I want to sleep," Emily begs, eyes beginning to close.

"No," JJ answered, shocking even herself. "No sleeping, Em." She crawls over and pulls Emily against her, ignoring the pain surging through her body. " Come on, stay with me. Stay with me."

Emily looks up at her. "I am sorry. I am so sorry."

"Me, too." JJ answers, pulling her closer.

She thinks that maybe this is how they'll be found.

Her only consolation is that hopefully, they'll be found holding on to each other.

Which means that in some sick way, he still won't have won.

He still won't have destroyed them completely.

It's not a lot, but it's what she holds onto as a wave of pain crashes through her and darkness overtakes her.

**TBC…**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: I'll be honest, when the recent news about the firing of AJ Cook and downsizing of Paget Brewster came across, the wind pretty much went out of my sails. JJ is - as should be somewhat obvious - my favorite character on the show and I'm not sure there is a CM for me without her on it. **

**Due to that, I wasn't sure I was going to finish it. But then I realized - and pardon the pompous self-righteous melodrama here - that not finishing a story about the friendship between these two tough lovely ladies just as CBS has decided that they're unimportant pretty much gives the win to CBS. Can't let that happen. A such, this story will be finished and likely before Season 6 begins.  
**

**This chapter is a bit different than the others - it's told a great deal in flashback. The flashbacks are all "missing scenes" from eps that should be immediately recognizable. I don't call any of them out by name, but I hope you know which ep is being referenced by the details within. Anything in flashback is in italics.  
**

**As always, I recommend going back and reading from Chapter 1. Keep in mind this is a pretty dark piece and we're not at the finish line yet. **

**Timeline: Before the end of S4. The last canon ep is probably Amplification.**

**Feedback: Always appreciated, always welcome.**

**

* * *

**

She hears the sound of metal bending and creaking and then there's a spray of bright light and a rush of almost hot feeling air.

She tries to make her eyes open so that she can see what's happening, but nothing moves. She wonders if she's actually still alive and can't immediately come up with an answer to the question.

"Hotch!" a voice screams. There's panic in the tone and it cracks a bit. "In here. They're in here."

She feels hands touching her and tries desperately to get away from them. Even the quiet voice in the back of her mind, the one telling her that the hands now on her belongs to friends, doesn't still her fear.

After all, the many injuries on her body were done to her by a friend.

And to one in return.

"She's alive," the voice says.

There are more hands on her now and she can feel people above her. She tries to speak, but words escape her.

There's really only one thing she wants to say anyway. One question she needs desperately to have answered.

"JJ?" she hears. "JJ, open your eyes, please?" It takes her a moment, but she recognizes the voice as belonging to Hotch. Which means that the other speaker had to be Morgan.

Which means that the cavalry did make it.

In time? Well that's both a complicated question and one for much later.

She tries to speak again, but once again, to no avail.

"We need to get them to the hospital," Morgan says and once again, she hears the crack in his voice. He's scared.

That seems so wrong.

"Garcia, where are the damned medics?" Hotch calls out. For a moment, she wonders if Garcia is actually in the wrong with them (no, please no…), but then manages to convinces herself that no, Penelope is safe back at the BAU.

As safe as one can be anyway.

She doesn't hear an answer from Garcia, which tells her that Hotch has an earpiece in.

"Five minutes," Hotch tells Morgan.

"They don't have five minutes."

They.

That answers her question.

Emily is still hanging on.

Good.

Good.

She hears Hotch answer Morgan, but the words are unintelligible.

She has a few more moments of shaky semi-consciousness and then everything slips away.

She doesn't care.

Her question has been answered.

The last thing she focuses on before she passes out is a picture in her mind's eye of Henry.

Gurgling. Happy to see her.

If the others had been paying attention to the expression on her face instead of the diminishing pulse in her wrist, they would have noticed the strange almost content smile on her face.

They don't.

* * *

_There's a knock at her door and even though she would love to ignore it – and love to remind whoever is standing in her doorway that she has far too much work to do and not near enough time with which to get it done in – she plasters a smile on her face and looks up._

"_Agent Prentiss," she says, with a note of surprise. _

_Prentiss is the newest member of the team, added to fill Elle's recent vacancy. She hasn't had much time or chance to say hello to the brunette, but she's thinking that's about to change._

_She's right._

"_Hi, Agent Jareau –"_

"_JJ, please."_

"_Emily. I mean, you're JJ, I'm…oh, God, I suck at this."_

"_Emily, what can I do for you?" JJ asks, smiling, deliberately trying to put the brunette at ease._

_It somewhat works._

"_Look. I'm sorry if I'm interrupting. I'm…totally interrupting aren't I? I'm so sorry. I'll come back later when you have more…"_

_JJ thinks about letting her continue to babble for a moment, but then takes mercy on the older woman._

"_No, please, Emily, sit. What can I help you with? The case paperwork? It can be kind of a pain at first."_

"_No, no. I figured that out though you're right, it was a pain. No, it's just…uh…I thought maybe, if you're not doing anything tonight…after work…maybe we could get a drink."_

_It occurs to her suddenly that JJ probably thinks she's being asked out on a date. Which will probably lead to awkwardness and avoidance and…oh God…_

" _I mean, I just…I heard you're the one to know around here and I could really use someone to know around here," Emily babbles out, her words running into each other._

_JJ glances down at her pile of files. Her plan had been to work late into the night on these, try to get at least somewhat caught up. The case that Emily and the rest of the team had just come off – the Guantanamo Bay one – had resulted in even more paperwork than usual._

_Her plan had been to stay until the stack on her desk had been halved. At least._

_She stands up. "I'm in."_

_She doesn't miss the wide smile that suddenly comes over Emily's face._

_The relief._

"_Great," Emily nods. "I'll go…grab my jacket." She turns and makes a quick, almost awkward exit._

_JJ chuckles and then glances back down at the paperwork._

_She sighs, grabs her own jacket and exits her office._

"_It's something German," Emily says as she brings over two well-frosted mugs of beer. "I can never pronounce it exactly, but it's good, trust me."_

"_Okay," JJ says, between tosses of peanut shells into a cup. "So, why the FBI instead of the state department?"_

"_I'm not much for pushing paper."_

_She considers adding on "no offense" but decides not to. She's not exactly clear about what JJ's job is. At first glance, she seemed strictly administrative, but a review of previous team cases showed a much higher involvement than that._

_And it occurs to her insulting her new teammate on their first social outing might be a really bad way to start up a friendship._

"_I see that about you," JJ nods, taking a healthy swig from the mug of beer. Emily is immediately impressed to note that JJ's no frou-frou drinking girly-girl. JJ nods approvingly. "Nice. Good crisp flavor."_

"_Yeah, I started drinking it the last time I was in Berlin."_

"_I'd love to see your passport," JJ chuckles. She shells another peanut and pops it into her mouth. Emily notices that JJ isn't even looking at her hands while she's doing it._

_Emily shrugs. "It gets old after awhile."_

"_We travel a lot," JJ comments._

"_True, but it was never the traveling that was a problem. It was not having a place to call home for longer than two months at a time."_

_There's too much honesty in the comment and she immediately regrets saying it._

"_That would drive me crazy," JJ agrees. "But I bet some of the shopping was choice."_

_Emily laughs. "Some of it. Milan and Paris in particular."_

"_Oh, what I'd do for a weekend of mindless senseless shopping." She sighs in amused resignation. "Oh well." She motions to the waiter passing by. "Two more," she tells him, indicating towards the beers. To Emily she says, "Unless you have somewhere else to be?"_

"_No, I'm good," Emily answers, just a little bit amazed. She and the blonde liaison couldn't possibly be more different and yet it seems to her that this is the first real woman-to-woman conversation that she's had in years._

_In her life and work, everything – work, friends and even family - has always been politics and diplomacy. Nothing's ever been really real, everything's always been a practiced almost twisted psychodrama of sorts._

_But there's something different about JJ. There's something very real and authentic about her._

_Something honest._

_And like a moth to a flame, she gravitates towards it._

_

* * *

_

She sees bright lights above her and everything is moving. She realizes quickly that she's lying on a bed – no, a gurney – being pushed down a hallway.

She hears words that sound an awful lot like "transfusion" and "internal bleeding".

"Sir," she hears.

"I know," Derek Morgan replies. "I'll wait outside."

She forces her eyes open.

"Derek," she whispers. It comes out more as strained gasp.

"Emily," he breathes and steps towards her. His movements are aggressive, dripping with fear that he's not even trying to disguise. "Hey, girl."

"Where's JJ? Tell me where JJ is. Tell me she's alive."

"She is. She's in surgery," he assures her. She sees his hand reach for her, but one of the doctors cuts him off before he can take it. He has a moment of wanting to beat the shit out of the doctor.

"We need to get her into surgery," the doctor tells Morgan.

"Take care of her," Morgan whispers.

"We'll do our best," the doctor says before turning and pushing Emily and his gurney into the OR.

He looks down the hallway, fists clenching and unclenching, distinctly aware that two of his closest friends are both fighting for their lives in separate rooms down this tiled walkway.

And it's not lost on him how utterly helpless he is to do a thing about it.

* * *

"_Hey," Emily says when she sees who is on the opposite side of the door._

"_Hey," JJ replies. She's fidgeting just a bit and immediately Emily knows why she's here._

"_You know."_

"_Yeah."_

"_Did…Hotch?"_

"_No. But there's not a lot I don't hear. At least eventually. I don't think the rest of the team knows."_

"_Well there's that at least." Then, "I'm sorry. I can't tell you how sorry I am."_

_"I know and I believe you. I just…"_

"_Wanted to know if I would have betrayed you guys at some point."_

_JJ doesn't reply._

"_Come in, please?"_

_JJ steps in. Emily closes the door behind them._

"_You want anything to drink?"_

"_Em…"_

"_Okay. Right." She takes a breath. "I've thought about that a lot, too. When Strauss put me in there, I figured I could do it. I've been playing politics my entire life, JJ. Betraying people…it's not betrayal, it's choosing sides."_

_She nearly spits the words out. She's pacing, anxious._

_JJ considers stopping her, but then realizes that she wants answers more than she needs to calm her friend._

"_But as I started working with you guys, getting to know you, I…I realized that it was more than just about me. I took the job because I wanted to be part of the BAU, but I didn't have a clue what that meant. I thought it was a job. After awhile, I understood that it was a purpose, but it's just been lately that I've realized that it's…"_

"_It's a family," JJ tells her and there's no sarcasm or joking there. Just quiet reality._

"_I know. I mean I do now. I can't answer for you if I ever would have ever betrayed you guys, but I can tell you I would never now. For whatever that means, that's the truth."_

_For a moment, they stare at each other, both gauging each other._

_It's a weird thing for Emily to be so vulnerable, so exposed._

_And then just when it seems like it's too much, just when she's sure that she's about to scream with frustration, JJ nods._

"_Have you been cleaning your cut out?"_

"_What?"_

_JJ motions towards the gash on her forehead. She'd gotten it after taking a 4X4 to the skull._

"_Yeah, uh…kinda."_

_JJ chuckles. "What would any of you people do without me?"_

"_I don't know," Emily says honestly._

_And once again, there's silence._

_Finally, seeming just a bit thrown, the typically unflappable Jennifer Jareau asks, "Where's your first aide kit?"_

"_Under the sink."_

"_JJ?"_

"_Hm?"_

"_I mean that. I don't know what I'd do without you – without any of you."_

"_It's not anything you need to worry about," JJ assures her as she opens the first aide kit. "Now sit."_

_

* * *

_

"Morgan!" Hotch says, walking towards where he, Rossi and Reid are standing, in the middle of the waiting room, all of them nursing cups of cold coffee.

Morgan looks up. "What's wrong? What's happened?"

He's suddenly terrified of the answer.

"Are they –" Reid starts and then stops.

"No, they found Holloway. He's barricaded himself inside his mother's old house."

Morgan starts for the door and then stops. "Can I -"

"Go," Hotch nods. "Dave, you, too."

"Are you sure?" Rossi asks.

"I need to be here," Hotch replies.

Rossi nods. He and Morgan start towards the swinging doors leading to the street.

"Morgan, wait," Reid calls out.

He turns. "What, kid?"

Reid says nothing, instead turns to Hotch.

"Be careful," Hotch says. "Both of you."

"You'll let us know if you hear anything?" Rossi asks, more for Morgan than himself. He already knows the answer – Morgan needs to hear it.

"Of course," Hotch replies.

Once he's gone, Hotch turns to Reid.

"Have you called Will yet?"

"Garcia did. He's on his way. Should be here in a few hours."

"Good."

"I heard…" Reid stops again, then, carefully, "I heard them say JJ's heart stopped in the ambulance."

"It did. They restarted it. She's hanging on."

"You know what the –"

"Reid, stop. You can find every statistic you have in your head and right now, not one of them will give you comfort. You have to trust that she's in good hands."

"Have faith."

It's not something Hotch wants to tell him. He's a man of logic and procedure. He's always believed in a higher being, but he's never put his life in that creature's hands. He's always believed himself to be a master of his own destiny – both good and bad.

Now, however, standing in the middle of the too-cold waiting room, wishing he'd gone with Morgan (but knowing that as the leader of this team, his place is to be here, waiting for word on them) he realizes that one is never truly a master of their destiny.

One is never truly, completely in control.

"Yeah," he replies to Reid. "Have faith."

It's ridiculously out of character for him.

But right now, faith is all that he has keeping him from losing it completely.

* * *

"_You going to tell me that you get used to it?" JJ asks as Emily moves to stand next to her._

_She looks around, sees that the room is still full of law enforcement._

_Apparently, folks get really strung out when there's a fatal shooting inside of a federal building. Especially when the killer is an FBI agent and the victim is a murderous deputy._

"_No," Emily replies. "You never do."_

"_Oh, good."_

"_It is good. JJ, it is good." She puts an arm around her friend's shoulder._

"_I think I could use a drink tonight."_

"_I think we all could," Emily chuckles._

"_Are they talking Penelope back to the hospital?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_I'll go with her."_

"_Derek can take her. You and me are going out for that drink."_

_JJ offers a small smile in return, but it doesn't quite meet her eyes._

"_Or two," Emily amends._

"_Or three."_

"_We'll call a taxi."_

_JJ laughs. Emily squeezes her shoulders. _

_

* * *

_

That Will LaMontagne makes it to the hospital before anything new is known on the welfare of JJ or Emily tells Aaron Hotchner just how desperate and frightening the situation as a whole is.

He's taken to pacing like a caged tiger, knowing that he's making the others nervous. He knows that he should be telling them to stay calm.

Even if he can't.

He stops only when he hears the cries of a small child.

JJ's child.

He turns and looks at Henry, wrapped tight in his father's arms.

He has no idea what's happening, but even at his incredibly young age, Henry can tell that something is wrong.

"Is he all right?" Hotch asks quietly.

"He knows that something is wrong with his momma," Will replies. Then, allowing to the frustration that he's been feeling since he got the call telling him that JJ had been kidnapped, beaten and recovered, he asks, "What is taking so long?"

Reid opens his mouth to reply, but then stops himself.

He could have told Will how complicated heart surgery can be, could have listed off all the various life-endangering injuries that JJ and Emily had suffered, but how would that help the former cop? Would it make him feel better?

No.

It couldn't possibly because it's not making him feel better.

"They'll update us know as soon as they can," Hotch tells him.

"That's not good enough," Will replies and immediately, Henry starts whimpering again.

"I know," Hotch confirms.

"Will," Garcia says softly. "Let me hold Henry."

He seems for a moment surprised. "I…"

"Please. Let me hold my godson."

Silently, he brings the baby over to her and puts him into her arms. She clutches him to her chest, kisses the top of her hair.

Hotch turns away from them, unable to watch the typically loud Penelope Garcia being so quiet, so close to breaking down.

"Agent Hotchner?"

He looks up as a doctor steps into his eyeline.

"Yes," he says, his voice suddenly quiet. "Go on."

* * *

"_He's beautiful," she says, sitting down next to the bed._

"_Yeah," JJ replies, glancing over at the bassinet that Henry is sleeping in. She considers picking him up, but the thought of trying to stand up is abhorrent to her right now. Every part of her either aches or is begging for a long vacation._

"_You okay?"_

"_I'm okay, Em," JJ sighs. "I just…I don't think new moms are supposed to say this, we're supposed to be glowing and all, but I hurt God, I hurt."_

"_Considering what you've just been through…but you did great." There's an unmistakable wetness in her eyes._

"_All right, now I guess it's my turn. Are you okay, Em?"_

_Emily laughs. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"_

"_I don't know. Sometimes when kids come up, you get weird."_

"_I'm envious," Emily replies. It's a half-truth, but she's counting on the drugs JJ is on to fog her typically sharp as a knife perception._

"_Mm. When the time is right, Em, you'll be fantastic."_

"_Sure." Emily slides her hand into JJ's hand and squeezes. "JJ?"_

"_Hm," the blonde responds, her head drooping a bit. It's clear that exhaustion is starting to overtake her._

"_Nothing. Sleep. I'll watch Henry."_

"_I know," JJ replies, squeezing her hand back._

_

* * *

_

"This is ridiculous," Derek Morgan growls. "How long are we going to play with him. Let's go in there and drag his ass out."

"They're worried about the house being booby-trapped," Rossi tells him.

"Rossi, I don't give a shit," Morgan shoots back. He's getting noticeably more agitated by the moment and Rossi's beginning to worry that Morgan's already fragile patience is quickly crumbling. "I want this guy."

"I know, but it won't do any of us any good for you or I to get killed trying to capture Holloway."

"Capture," Morgan hisses.

"Capture," Rossi confirms. "We're bringing him in. Alive."

Morgan turns to face him, "Rossi, don't you wish every now and again –"

"I do, Derek. Every damn day. And I never lose a moment of sleep over any of these dirtbags who decide to suicide by cop. But this guy…the plan is to bring him in and make him pay for what he did."

"Make him pay. Fine," Morgan retorts. He pulls out his phone. He hits a number. "Hey, kid. Any word?"

There's a pause and then he turns to Rossi. "The doctor is talking to them now."

* * *

"_There," JJ points as they enter the bar. It's a decent sized out of the way hole in the wall biker bar. Actually, that's probably a bit generous - if this place has four walls, well then would be something of a minor miracle._

"_She looks terrible," Garcia whispers, sympathy shining in her eyes. _

"_We don't look much better," JJ cracks, gesturing to both of them. They're soaked almost completely through, their clothing speckled with snowflakes._

"_You as sloppy drunk as she?" Garcia asks._

"_Not yet," comes the quick reply as the two women weave their way through bikers towards the bar. "But if one more of these guys tries to grab my ass, I'm going to need to get sloppy drunk in order to deal with the smackdown that Hotch will give me after I pistol whip the asshole."_

"_Have I ever told you how much I love you?" Garcia laughs._

_JJ just smiles in return. "You ready?"_

"_Lead on."_

_JJ nods, then steps up to the bar. "Mind if I buy you a drink, Beautiful Lady?_

_Emily turns around and blinks through her inebriation. It takes her a moment to realize who she's talking to. "JJ?"_

"_Hey, Emily. Fancy seeing you here," Garcia chimes in._

"_Garcia?" _

"_In the flesh, Sister."_

"_You know, Em," JJ tells her, "We keep having these deep moments over beer."_

"_Or harder stuff," Garcia comments, sniffing from Emily's shot glass._

"_Yeah. I…I don't…what are you…how did you find me?" She reaches into her pocket and puls out her cell. "I turned it off. You shouldn't be able to trace me."_

"_You're right," JJ agrees. To the bartender she says. "Shots for all three of us. Whatever she's been drinking."_

_The bartender smirks and steps away._

"_So how did you find me?"_

"_Should we let her in our secret?" Garcia queries, a mysterious glint to her eyes._

_JJ shrugs. "Sure." She leans in towards Emily. "We called around to every bar in the area asking if they'd seen a sulking brunette with a gun." Then she laughs. "We've been in some interesting places tonight."_

"_Ain't that the truth," Garcia mutters. _

"_Why are you here?" Emily asks, still confused._

"_Isn't it obvious?" Garcia replies. "We're here because you needed us."_

"_No. I'm…I'm okay."_

"_Yeah, probably, but after the day you've been through, I mean exorcisms and all, no one would blame you if you weren't." JJ says as she drops down onto the barstool on the left of Emily. _

_Garcia perches herself on the one on Emily's right. "And in case you're not, well, Buttercup, we're here."_

"_Ladies," the Bartender says as he places three shot glasses full of Crown down in front of them, _

"_Glasses up, ladies. We're toasting," Garcia orders._

_Emily starts to lift her glass, then halts half way up and looks over at JJ. "Can you?"_

"_Drink?" JJ asks with a snort. "Yeah, I don't think one shot is going to hurt me or Henry. Besides, I pumped this morning."_

"_Okay then," Garcia tells them, lifting her glasses. She waits for JJ and Emily to follow suit. Once they do, she continues, "To three hot – and I really mean hot - badass chicks who constantly deal with crazy shit every day and still look great."_

_Both JJ and Emily hooted their agreement and then clink glassed with Garcia. _

_For a moment, Emily considers telling them the truth of why this case hurts so much. She considers telling them about loves lost, friendship destroyed and a decision that she's never completely come to terms with._

_She doesn't though._

_Instead, she enjoys their gentle teasing companionship. They both know she doesn't want to talk so they don't make her._

_Instead, they spend the night people watching and making each other laugh._

"_Okay," JJ finally says, once the big hand on her watch hits one. "I am calling Will to come pick us up."_

_Both Garcia and Emily groan._

"_He's going to lecture," Garcia grumbles._

"_But it's better than getting a taxi," Emily says._

"_Definitely," JJ sighs. "The last time we did that was…an adventure."_

"_Ooh, story-time," Garcia grins._

_"Later, let me call Will."_

"_He'll lecture," both Emily and Garcia say at the same time._

_And then all three of them together burst into laughter.  
_

_

* * *

_

"So, they're both going to survive?" Will asks again. He and Hotch are standing inches away from the doctor. Reid is a few feet behind them. "You're sure?"

"There's no such thing as sure and tonight is likely to be touch and go, but we are cautiously optimistic," the doctor tells them. "If they do pull through, there could be some longer term effects. We'll want to monitor the internal injuries, especially Agent Jareau's heart situation."

"Can we see them?" Hotch queries.

"Soon. We'd like to get them cleaned up and we'd like to keep their visitors to a minimum tonight, but yes, I think both will be able to have visitors. I will warn you, they will both be heavily sedated and medicated so they're not likely to be coherent or even aware."

"But they're there," Garcia whispers. "They're alive."

"Yes."

"Thank you," Hotch tells him, shaking his hand. "Reid, call Morgan and Rossi back and update them, please."

Reid steps away.

"Will, obviously you'll go see JJ first. In the absence of Emily's mother, I'll go see her."

Will nods. He looks over his shoulder, over at Garcia and realizes that she's still clutching Henry tight against her.

He doesn't blame her.

Right now, his hands are shaking too much for him to not be afraid that he'll drop his son. Right now, he's not sure that he's not about to drop to his knees himself.

Drop to his knees and pray.

He's far from the only one in the room considering doing that.

* * *

"_Crazy lives we have, huh?" Emily says, dropping herself into the chair opposite JJ's desk._

"_You can say that again," JJ chuckles as she's packing up for the night. When she turns slightly, Emily thinks she sees signs of tear tracks on JJ's face.  
_

"Hey, _Reid's going to be okay."_

"_I know."_

"_And Henry is fine as well."_

"_I know that, too" JJ replies. She's turned her back to Emily and is now moving files around her desk._

_Things have been odd since she returned from maternity leave. There have been moments where she felt like herself again – but others, like today, when she wondered why she didn't stay out longer._

_She can't help but wonder how she can possibly do this job when everything now comes back to Henry for her._

"_JJ," Emily says. We did all right today."_

"_Yeah, we did."_

"_You did good."_

"_Em," she whispers, stepping towards her. She lowers her voice. "I didn't give a damn about national security. I just…I needed to warn him."_

"_If you're looking for me to tell you did something you shouldn't have, you're coming to the wrong person."_

"_I could have compromised everything. I could have created a panic. If Hotch were to find out…"_

"_He'd understand. We all do."_

"_I know and I'm not sure if that upsets me or makes me happy."_

"_There's not one of us who wouldn't have at least thought about if not done the same thing you did."_

"_Yeah." Her tone suggests that she thinks Emily is placating her.  
_

"_JJ, Henry is fine. He's at home, waiting for you."_

"_Then I should get home."_

"_Unless you want to go out and get a drink first. I think Will would understand."_

"_There's a lot of understanding going on today."_

"_Like I said, we have crazy lives. So, what about it? Drink?"_

_JJ laughs. "You're right, you know, we keep having these chats over alcohol."_

"_What's it Garcia says we are?"_

"_Badass chicks."_

"_Yeah. Thanks, Em, but I think I'll pass tonight."_

"_Give Henry a kiss from me."_

"_Will do."_

"_JJ?"_

"_Mm."_

"_You're a hell of a mother and a hell of an agent. Don't you ever forget either of those things."_

_JJ smiles. She squeezes Emily's arm on the way out of the room._

"_You're a hell of a friend, Em."_

_And then, before the moment can become too emotional or too sappy or too any of these things that these woman try hard not to be, JJ exits the room._

_

* * *

_

Morgan hangs up the phone, takes a breath and then says, "Things look…better. They think they'll make it. Might even be able to see some visitors later tonight."

"Good. Then why don't we end this and get to them," Rossi tells him.

"I'm on-board with that."

"Remember, we want him alive, Derek."

"Remind me why again? Making him face justice – well him dying seems to handle that pretty well don't you think?"

"No. It doesn't at all. Justice for me…well I want him to have to face JJ and Emily. I want that little son of a bitch to know that they beat him at his game. That's justice."

Morgan nods and pulls out his gun. "Let's do this."

**TBC…**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Once again, apologies for the long delay. A combination of the insanity of my work life and my general dismay at the loss of AJ Cook on the show caused the much longer than anticipated delay. However, we're extraordinarily close to the end now - just a epilogue left to go. This chapter isn't brutal, but hopefully it is emotionally cathartic. Our ladies have been through so much - all that's left is the healing. **

**Just one small story note - there is an Original Character in this, a shrink I've used for two of my other pieces - CLEARED and FINE, Dr Ben Macy. You don't need to read those pieces if you don't want to - the short is, he's a departmental shrink.**

**Thank you for all of the kind words thus far. Further feedback is always appreciated. I hope you enjoy and are not let down after the long wait.**

**J -tag.  
**

* * *

She dresses slowly, almost methodically. Her fingers slide over the hard plastic buttons and gently push them through the circular holes. She buttons from the bottom up, but stops as she reaches her breastbone.

There, she reaches out with her pointer finger and lightly traces a thick red scar – a souvenir from the emergency heart surgery that had saved her life eight weeks earlier.

"JJ?" she hears behind her. His voice is soft and worried. It's been like that a lot lately. She'd like to tell him to stop worrying, but she knows there's no point to even making the request. Every night, once she finally finds a way to drift off into an almost always nightmarish sleep, she knows he's up watching her.

Watching and worrying.

She's not right. Everyone knows that.

They tell her it's only natural, but nothing feels natural to her these days.

Her body feels wrong, her mind feels wrong.

Everything.

"I'm okay," she replies softly, because she knows that's what he wants to hear.

She feels his arms go around her and for a moment, she stiffens up. She closes her eyes and wills herself to accept his touch.

It's gentle and compassionate and she feels terrible for her body's immediate rejection of it.

"I'm here," he tells her and he's told her this at least a hundred times over the last few weeks.

Inanely, she wants to reply that she knows that he's there, but she's not sure that she is. She chooses to keep her mouth closed.

He tightens his hold around her and for a moment, she's certain that she's suffocating. She has a moment of wanting to push away from him – as violently as possible. Again, she forces back the panic.

And wonders when it will end.

Wonders when she will start to feel like herself again.

Like the calm, cool, always put-together Jennifer Jareau of old.

The one before Garrett fucking Holloway and his room of friendly fire torture.

She chuckles and Will looks at her like he thinks maybe she's going mad.

She's seen that look a lot of over the last few weeks as well.

"JJ?"

She pushes away from him and turns to face him. "It's…it's nothing. Is Henry down for his late morning nap?"

"Yeah. Look, JJ, are you…are you sure you want to do this?" He motions to her clothes. "You don't have to yet. You know that, right?"

"I know. I know I don't have to, Will. It's just…I need to. I need to see them and not just here where they come to visit me and look at me with sympathy. I need them to see me as me. I need to be me again."

"Okay," he says, but his tone indicates how little he thinks of this idea. He steps back over to her and starts buttoning her shirt up for her.

Normally, she would never let him do this. It's not erotic or sexy. She's never been a woman who needs a man for anything. Want is something else entirely, but need – no, she's always been able to survive on her own.

Still, right now, she's thankful for Will LaMontagne's presence. He's rock solid and steady and when he's around, there's some degree of safety and with all the turbulence and insanity swirling around in her head, she desperately needs that.

"You're ready," he says. And then he leans up and gently kisses her, cupping her face as he does so.

Not for the first time since she was released from the hospital, she realizes that she not only doesn't want him holding her, she also doesn't want him kissing her.

Or doing anything else to her.

Not that she'd ever tell him that.

It would hurt him too much and there's already been too much of that.

She's not about to let Holloway get another win.

"I love you," he says to her.

"I love you, too," she repeats. And then hates herself for the fact that right now, they're just words with no real emotion.

She turns then and leaves, his worrying eyes on her back.

He's a smart man. He knows that she's flailing.

He just doesn't know how to help her.

She wishes she had an easy answer for him.

She doesn't.

* * *

She's taken to disappearing into the bathroom whenever she feels like she's about to explode.

And those times have been far too frequent as of late.

They had cleared her back to duty (at least desk duty anyway) much sooner than they had JJ. Her injuries, while serious, hadn't been near as bad as the ones that JJ had suffered.

In any case, three days earlier she had returned to the office. The guys (and Penelope) had made quite the ordeal of it even though she'd asked them not to. She'd gone out of her way to constantly assure him that she was good and fine and ready to return to putting the scum of the earth away.

Now, water dribbling down her cheeks, her palms spread out of in front of her, she realizes that she should have stayed home a few more weeks.

Or months.

Or forever.

Emily Prentiss is no quitter, but right now, she's wondering if she has the heart – or the courage – for this job anymore.

And that's not even the worst of it.

The worst is the guilt.

It's been eight weeks since she was released from the hospital, six since JJ was sent home.

They haven't so much as shared an email back and forth.

She supposes that neither of them quite knows where to start.

How about, "Hey friend, sorry for almost killing you."

Not exactly Hallmark card material.

But really, what do you say to a close friend after you've put the barrel of a pistol against their forehead?

How do you even begin to apologize for that?

She takes a paper towel and runs it over her face, sweeping away the droplets of water. A glance at her watch tells her she's been in the bathroom for almost seven minutes. If she doesn't get back soon, she'll return to a full inquisition.

It's already hell having to try to act like everything is okay around a bunch of profilers. She knows that they see right through her, but at least for now, they're letting her pretend.

She thinks maybe if she stays in the bathroom for too much longer, they'll change their minds and come looking for her.

She couldn't deal with that.

She can barely deal with the lifted eyebrows and unasked questions, she knows for damn sure that she couldn't handle the outright concern.

She exits the bathroom, straightening herself up and standing tall. She walks down the hallway back towards the bullpen, heels clicking.

And then pulls up hard when she sees the elevator door open.

"JJ," she whispers, her eyes locked on the tiny blonde standing inside the elevator.

* * *

"_Please sit," he says to her, motioning to the chair opposite him._

_She hesitates a moment, staring at the chair. She knows that she must look like she's a bit crazy, staring at the chair like it might bite her._

_But after all she's been through, well nothing's terribly safe these days._

"_Agent Prentiss?" Doctor Ben Macy says kindly, "Please."_

_She gently drops into the chair and then looks up at the departmental shrink. She's had a couple of meetings with him, annual reviews, nothing serious. They've generally well, but she has a feeling this one will be harder._

_This one will hurt more._

"_So?" he says._

"_So," she replies._

_He chuckles._

"_What?"_

"_You and Agent Jareau, you're a lot alike."_

_She's not sure why, but she bristles just a bit._

_He, of course, notices._

"_You don't like to hear that?"_

"_No!" she replies quickly and then shakes her head. "It's not that. It's just…"_

"_The two of you have been through hell and you have no idea what your relationship with her is anymore."_

"_Yeah," she admits._

"_Why don't you tell me about it?"_

"_It?"_

"_You pick. We can talk about your relationship with Agent Jareau or we can talk about what happened during your brief captivity."_

"_Brief," she repeats, mostly to herself._

"_Apologies, poor choice of words."_

_She looks up at him and this time, she's the one smiling. "Something tells me, Doc, you rarely make poor choices in words. You chose that one in order to get a reaction out of me."_

"_I love profilers," he replies. "Always on the ball. Too on the ball sometimes. You always think that because you understand the human mind so well, your own issues are somehow…worse. I think sometimes profilers hate themselves worse than they hit the monsters they hunt." _

_Emily says nothing in response, just looks down at her hands and rubs at a callous on her left palm._

"_So, talk to me about what happened in that room."_

"_I don't know," she replies. "I don't know who that was."_

"_By who, I presume you're talking about yourself?"_

"_Yeah."_

_She rubs at the callous harder._

"_You've seen the video?" she asks._

"_The edited down version, yes."_

"_Then you know what I was about to do to JJ, right?"_

"_I know you didn't."_

"_I almost did." Her words are forceful, almost urgent._

"_Okay, let's talk about that then. Why did you almost kill her?"_

"_I don't know."_

"_Do you really believe that you don't know?"_

"_I…I guess maybe because I'm afraid of dying," she says softly. "I'm afraid that there's nothing on the other side. I'm afraid…" she trails off. "I'm coward."_

"_Being afraid of death doesn't make you a coward, Agent Prentiss, it pretty much makes you human."_

"_And what does almost killing your best friend make you?"_

"_Manipulated. Look, I know it's hard for you to rationalize what happened in there, but you've got to try. The two of you, you had only one choice and that was to play along. You bargained that you could deal with the aftermath…"_

"_We can't," Prentiss interrupts._

"_We?"_

"_We. Look at us, we clearly can't."_

"_Have you spoken to Agent Jareau since…"_

"_No."_

"_Have you tried?"_

"_No."_

"_Why not?"_

"_I don't know what I'd say."_

"_Understandable."_

"_Right."_

"_So, tell me why I should clear you back to duty when you are clearly not even close to all right yet?"_

"_Because if I stay home any longer, I might never come back."_

"_Why do you think that?"_

"_Because I can't stop thinking about what if it happens again? What if every time I go to get coffee, I think the guy standing behind me in line is going to hurt me? What if every time I look in the mirror, all I see is a person who is just as bad as the monsters we hunt? I can't stop being…afraid."_

"_And you think getting immediately back to work will help you combat those feelings? That fear?"_

"_I'm hoping that getting back to helping people will remind me why I do this. I'm hoping it will remind me that I'm not a bad person."_

"_I suppose me telling you that you're not a bad person won't help a bit?"_

"_No."_

_Macy nods. "Okay. I'm going to clear you, Agent Prentiss. Conditionally."_

"_Excuse me?"_

"_I will clear you back to active duty if you agree to meet with me once a week and after each case."_

"_Why?"_

"_To see where your mind is."_

"_For how long?"_

"_For now? Indefinitely. We'll see what happens. I think right now, you need someone you feel you can talk to about this. I understand that you don't want your team to know what you're dealing with – though I promise, they have a pretty good idea. In any case, I get it and I can be the person you can speak to. No judgments, I assure you."_

"_Okay."_

"_Okay."_

_She starts to rise._

"_Agent Prentiss?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_You know that you won't really start healing until you speak to Agent Jareau, right?"_

"_I know. I'm just not…"_

"_Ready yet. I know. The time will come when you will be. I promise."_

_

* * *

_

"Hey Em," JJ replies softly, not moving from where she's standing, just inside the elevator. She slides a hand out to stop the doors from shutting.

"Hey," Emily answers, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.

For a long moment, the two women just stare at each other, not sure what to say, not sure where to begin.

"So," JJ says finally, exiting the elevator and taking a small and tentative step towards Emily. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," Emily nods. She wishes her voice sounded more confident, more convincing, but there's a slight waver in her tone. "You?"

"I'm good, too," JJ answers, just as unconvincingly.

"And your…how's your chest?" Emily asks, pointing slightly.

"Good. Better. Much better. I feel fine."

"Good."

"JJ, Prentiss," Hotch says as he enters the hallway.

Both women stiffen and turn towards their unit leader.

"Hotch," JJ reminds.

"I don't know you were coming in."

"I needed to. I'd uh…like to return to duty."

"Are you ready? Have you been medically cleared?"

"Yes," JJ nods. Absently, her hand strays up to the front of her shirt and settles over the fabric that is covering up the surgery scar.

"Has Macy cleared you?"

"Not yet."

"Okay. He needs to."

"I know."

He looks from woman to woman, perhaps hoping that they'll take the initiative and work out their issues, but he can see that both of them are looking away.

"Good. I believe he's in. Go see him today. When you're done, I want both of you in my office."

* * *

"_Jennifer," Dr. Macy smiles. "It's been awhile."_

"_It has," she says. _

_The last time she was in this office was right after she returned from maternity leave, when she was wondering if she still had a place on the team. Before that, she'd had come to him about her feelings about getting her first kill._

"_I understand that you're attempting to return to duty."_

"_Any chance I can get you to just sign the paper and let me go?"_

"_Jennifer, come on."_

_They both smile at each other, almost like they're sizing each other up._

"_Yeah, I don't think so," JJ sighs. _

"_So, are we going to do dance our normal dance?"_

"_Which one is that?"_

"_I see we are." _

_She shrugs. "You know I wouldn't be here if not for Hotch."_

"_I know. And I know you won't make this easy and I can deal with that. What I need you to deal with is the fact that you have been through a horrible ordeal – both physically and mentally. Accept it and open yourself up to the healing process."_

"_I'm trying."_

"_Are you?"_

"_Of course I am. Do you think I want to feel like I am?"_

"_That depends. Tell me what you're feeling like?"_

"_Nicely played," JJ chuckles._

"_Years of practice," Macy grins._

"_Right. How am I feeling?" She sighs. "Like something is very wrong with me."_

"_Explain."_

"_I feel like…like I can't feel anything. My boyfriend Will, he puts his arm around me and he holds me and I just want him to go away. When we…" she stops and looks up at him, a small blush to her cheeks. "When we make love, I just want it over. He wants to comfort me and I just want him to stop touching me."_

"_Why don't you tell him you need time?"_

"_I don't want to hurt him. He's trying so hard to make me feel better, to make me feel safe and like I'm protected. I don't want to take that away from him."_

"_You don't know how to stop, do you?"_

"_What?"_

"_Even now, even when you feel like you're out of control, you don't know how to not take care of everyone else and put yourself first."_

_She shrugs, both slightly embarrassed and just a little bit proud._

_Macy is more than a little bit reassured to see that old Jennifer Jareau pride surfacing. It's a good sign._

"_Jennifer, what Holloway did to the two of you, it's nothing short of horrific. He forced both of you to be someone you're not. You need to understand, though, what he did to you, the funhouse mirror he made you look into, it's not telling you either of the truth."_

"_Don't you get it, he showed both of us how awful we could be."_

"_At gunpoint. He made both of you do things you never would in order to live. Do you really think it'd be better to hold your morals and die?"_

"_I don't know."_

"_Then let me answer that for you – no. Both of you are going to have to find a way to forgive yourselves for what you've done and once you have, both of you will realize how far each of you were willing to go for each other."_

"_I don't understand."_

"_I think you do. I think you understand that hurting each other, doing those things, you not only did it so that you would survive, you did it so your friend would as well. Jennifer, do you know that when Emily was found, she kept asking if you were okay?"_

"_No…"_

"_Do you remember the first thing you thought about when you woke up in the hospital?"_

"_I wondered if Emily had made it."_

"_Hold on to that then. Because it means something."_

"_I hope you're right."_

"_I am. Now, I am going to give you the same deal I gave Agent Prentiss. I will clear you conditionally – you have to come see me at least once a week and after each mission until I'm content that you're on the opposite side of this."_

"_Deal."_

"_Great. Next Tuesday then?"_

"_Sure." She starts to rise, then stops. "What about Will?"_

"_What about Henry?"_

"_What? I don't…"_

"_You said you've been having issues in regards to intimacy with Will, right?"_

"_Yeah. What does that have to do with Henry?"_

"_Are you having problems bonding with Henry?"_

"_No."_

"_Then for now, I have two suggestions. First, be honest with Will. He's probably a smart man who knows something is wrong with you and I'd bet that he'd be more hurt at the idea that you're uncomfortable with something that he's doing than he would be if you're honest that you need some physical space."_

"_Okay. And second?"_

"_Spend some time bonding as a family instead of as a couple. Go to the park, go to the zoo. Don't worry about the romance, concentrate on being mom and dad to Henry and I'd bet that your comfort level around your boyfriend will go up. In short, don't push yourself to do or be anything before you're ready."_

"_All that sounds great, but why am I having issues with him touching me?"_

"_I doubt it's just him. Tell me, when was the last time you were in any kind of store?"_

"_About two weeks ago."_

"_Why so long?"_

"_Because I started to have a panic attack. Everyone was getting so close and someone brushed me and it felt like my heart was about to explode."_

"_You feel your heart a lot more now these days, don't you?"_

_Her only response is a small smile._

"_Do you want to talk about that? About what happened in the ambulance?"_

"_You mean about my heart stopping?"_

"_Not yet?" she all but begs._

"_Okay, but soon. Certainly before we end these sessions."_

_She nods her agreement._

"_Now as for the part about the store, your sudden claustrophobia, it's to be expected. Understand that some of things you're going through, some of the things you're feeling, they're all perfectly natural parts of trauma."_

_She shakes her head, almost like she refuses to accept his words._

"_Jennifer," he presses. "You are an extraordinary woman – I've certainly learned that through our many sessions – but you are not so extraordinary as to be immune to human nature. You've been hurt terribly – allow yourself to go through the stages of recovery. It's the only way that you're going to get better."_

"_I'll try," she says._

"_And I'll be here every step of the way to help you. I'm sure your team will be as well."_

"_I'm sure they will be," she chuckles._

_

* * *

_

She walks through the glass doors, into the bullpen and before she can get three steps, the others are stepping towards her.

They all stop short, somehow absurdly aware of her need for space.

Penelope speaks first," JJ," she says, a wide smile forming. She starts forward again, then stops and looks at Derek Morgan.

Their shared look tells JJ that Morgan had cautioned Penelope that physical contact might not be appreciated.

Funny, she thinks, how well acquainted with the nature of trauma the BAU is.

"It's okay," JJ tells her. "You can…hug me."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

And then Penelope has her arms JJ and she's hugging tight.

JJ swallows down on the panic and wraps her arms around Penelope as well.

For a moment, Garcia gets her as close as anyone has to actually breaking down.

Freaking Garcia.

She pulls away and quickly shoves a hand past her eyes. "Hey," she says to the others, who are standing awkwardly by. She notices that Emily is missing.

"How are you?" Reid asks and she notices that he suddenly can't manage to stand still. It'd be almost funny if it didn't look so weird.

"Every day is better." It's something of a lie, but they all are wearing expressions that seem to say that they need the lie right about now. "Where's uh…where's Em?"

"Bathroom again," Rossi says.

"Again?" She turns and glances down the hallway.

"JJ?"

She looks up and sees Hotch leaning over the rail. "Can you come up here, please?"

"On my way."

"David, when Prentiss gets back, can you have her join us?"

"Sure," Rossi says.

* * *

It's ten minutes later when Emily enters the office.

Ten minutes past when JJ came in and sat across from Hotch.

Ten minutes of uncomfortable small talk. Ten minutes of looking around the room and taking in various pictures and certificates that she's looked at a thousand times.

And now she and Emily are sitting next to each other, across from Hotch, both of them trying not to look nervous, both of them failing badly.

"I know that neither of you is comfortable right now," he tells them. "I also know that neither of you wants to be anywhere around each other right now."

Both women open their mouths to protest and then quickly close them, unable to deny his words.

"I presume both of you want to stay with the BAU. With this team."

"Yes," JJ says.

"Yes," Emily agrees.

"Then we need to work through this," he tells them.

They both look up at him hopefully, as if praying that he has a time machine that can back eight weeks, go back to the morning that had started so innocently.

"I want you two to go see Holloway."

"What? Why?" Emily demands and Hotch think it's almost funny how Emily has suddenly leaned forward, almost putting herself in front of JJ.

"Because I think both of you need to confront him. And I think you need to do it together."

His voice is low, but his tone is authoritative. He's phrasing his words like they have a choice, but they both know they don't.

"When?" JJ asks.

"No time like today. I've already called over to the prison and let them know you're coming. Morgan and Rossi will be accompanying you."

"You think something is going to happen?" Emily asks.

"No, I think neither of them will be keen to let me send you two without them there so if I let them go up front, we can save everyone a lot of time and trouble," Hotch admits with a smile.

"What are we supposed to ask him?" JJ questions.

"The question everyone wants answered. Why."

"We know why," Emily shoots back. "Because he's a sociopath."

"You know why as a profiler, but you're not going through what you are from a professional perspective and you can't deal with it by compartmentalizing it as such either." His words are pointed, but still softly spoken.

"Fine," Emily replies, making it clear that she's not convinced that this is a good idea or that it will do any good.

"Good. I'll have Morgan pull the car around."

* * *

It's about an hour drive to the high security prison that is currently holding Garrett Holloway. After a check-in at the gate, the two women are led into an interrogation room with a two-way mirror and told to wait while Holloway is brought to them.

They sit in silence, neither knowing what to say or where to begin.

"Em," JJ starts to say, but it cut off by the door opening.

"Ladies," Holloway says as he is pushed in, hands cuffed in front of him, a chain around his waist. He scuffles his feet and then is pushed into a chair.

"Just call if you need us," the guard tells them and then exits.

"I'm surprised to see you here," Holloway tells them, a grin on his face. He's not a handsome man, far from it. There's something mean about his features even when he's happy.

"Sorry to disappoint you," Emily tells him.

"Oh, no, no, you misunderstand, Emily, I'm not disappointed. I'm thrilled."

"Really? Why? We lived," JJ tells him. "We beat your game."

"Did you now? I don't think so."

"What the hell does that mean?" Emily growls.

"Well, from what I understand, Jennifer died on the way to the hospital."

Emily glances over and sees that JJ has suddenly gone very pale.

"And you, dear Emily, well look at that, the one who sees herself as the big strong protector, you pretty much failed didn't you?"

"She didn't fail," JJ says softly.

"No? Did you forget the part where she put a gun to your head and was about to fire? Did you forget how she shocked you so many times that it caused your heart to stop?"

"You caused that, not her."

"You can believe that, but deep down, both of you know that you did those things to each other because you wanted to. I just helped you along. Tell me, ladies, do you remember every punch, every hit. Do you remember every scream? Do you wake up thinking about every plea for the pain to stop? I do."

"I never wanted to hurt her," Emily says softly. "I never would have if not for you."

"That's probably true," Holloway admits. "I bring out the best in people."

It takes everything Emily Prentiss has not to lurch across the table and rip Holloway's throat out.

Which he seems to notice.

He laughs.

"Even now, Emily, it's in you. That wonderful violence. That desire to hurt. And that destroys you because you want so desperately to can prove that what you did was all about me and not about you. But it was you – if you're honest with yourself, you enjoyed it. You liked it. You…"

"Shut up," JJ says. "Just shut up."

There are tears in her eyes. Her hand is over her shirt, as if covering up her scar.

"Hitting too close to home are we, Jennifer?"

She doesn't respond. A tear streaks down her face and falls from her chin.

He turns back towards Emily. "You know from the moment I saw you two ladies at that coffee shop, I knew you were something special. Now, I admit, I didn't think you'd end up finding a way to live, but I had a feeling that you would last longer than anyone else had and you did. But don't fool yourself, you didn't last because you love each other or your friendship is just so damned good, you lasted because that fury, that anger – that need to hurt, it's deep inside both of you and it felt good to let it out."

"No," Emily tells him. "No."

* * *

"We need to stop this," Morgan growls, turning to look at Rossi. "He's just hurting them worse."

"We can't," Rossi tells him. "Hotch was very clear. They chose when to leave. He thinks they've got to take back control from Holloway and until they do, they'll believe everything he's saying."

"He's full of shit," Morgan insists.

"We both know that," Rossi agrees. "But what we know doesn't matter. They need to know it. And they need to believe it."

Morgan shakes his head, unconvinced.

"Derek, they're strong. Underneath all of this pain, they're still the two strongest women either of us have ever met. They're not going to let Holloway own them. They won't let him win."

* * *

"You know, I pegged Jennifer as the weak one," Holloway continues, his voice almost a lazy drawl. "I figured you, Emily, for the protector. The lone wolf who will go out of her way to keep the bright and cheery one safe. For the most part, I was right. I have to admit, though, I totally didn't see the part where you were willing to shoot her between the eyes to save your own life. It was so beautifully…savage."

"Fuck you," Emily says.

He laughs. "Shame, we never got to that part."

"This is bullshit," JJ snaps. "We came here to ask you why but we completely wasted our time, didn't we?"

"Not sure what you mean, Jennifer." And then he smirks.

"You have no intention of actually telling us why because in the end, you don't know why. You just know that you're a sad and pathetic little monster who gets off on hurting people…"

"And watching them hurt each other, don't forget that part."

"Shut up, I'm done with listening to you. Maybe you're right, maybe both Emily and I are horrible people. Maybe we're both monsters down deep and maybe you got the pleasure of showing both of us just how terrible we can be, but I am done with letting you destroy me."

"Oh, how empowering."

"No, you know what's empowering? What's empowering is what I could do to you right now." She leans in close to him and lowers her voice. "We're in a small little room, just the three of us. Outside this room are two of our teammates. They wouldn't budge an inch if I put my hands around your throat and squeezed the life out of you. But you know what? I'm not going to do that. Right now, there's nothing I want more than to cause you as much pain as you've caused us, but that's not going to happen."

"Very noble."

"I'm not done," JJ tells him sharply. "In a minute, Emily and I are going to get up from this table and we're going to walk out of this room and in a few months, we will both testify against you and then after that, I promise you, neither one of us are ever going to think about you again."

"You're lying," he tells them, a note of uncertainty in his tone.

"She's not," Emily says, leaning forward. "Do you know why JJ won't hurt you? Do you know why I won't?"

"No, tell me."

"Because I'd stop her and she'd stop me. And that might sound corny and cheesy and emotional to you – you might not even believe it, but that would be your mistake. What happened in that room, what you made us do, neither one of us will ever forget it, but we will not let you break us."

She looks at JJ, forces brown eyes to meet blue.

"We will not."

"Oh, but I already broke both of you."

JJ smiles, almost sadly. "If you had, you'd be dead by my hands by now."

And then she gets up from the table and walks towards the door. She turns back and faces Holloway.

"You lose," she whispers.

There are tears running freely down her face now. She feels like maybe she's close to breaking and she'll be damned if she'll do that in this room. She turns away from him and knocks on the door. It opens almost immediately.

"You ready?" Morgan asks, glowering in at Holloway, who has suddenly lost all of his smug confidence. He's looking up nervously at Emily now, as if suddenly realizing that she's still standing above him, still able to strike if she wants to.

"Yeah. Em?"

"I'm ready."

Emily moves towards the door, catches up with JJ and Morgan.

"You won't ever forget me, you know that, right? And you two will never be the same. No matter how much you try, you'll never really trust each other again."

The two women look at each other, eyes once again locked, their expressions unreadable and then together, they both turn and exit the room together.

Holloway opens his mouth to say something, but his voice is cut off by the sound of the door slamming loudly behind him.

* * *

They're in the parking lot of the building back at the BAU before either woman speaks up again.

It's Emily who says, "JJ, hold up a minute."

She gives a look to Rossi and Morgan, the kind that tells them to go on it ahead. That kind that tries to assure both of them that it will be okay.

Neither man looks convinced, but both heads into the office.

Once they're gone, Emily turns to JJ. "We should talk."

"We don't need to talk, Em."

"Oh."

"Em, there's not a lot to say," JJ tells her softly. "We don't need to sit here and talk out everything. There's only one thing either of us needs to say."

"I'm sorry," Emily tells her.

"So am I."

"I never…"

"I know."

"Are we okay?"

"We will be," JJ assures her. "But I think I was wrong. I don't think I'm ready to return to work just yet."

This surprises Emily for only a moment.

Once she recovers, she asks, "How long are you going to be out?"

"Not long. Maybe a week. Maybe two. I think maybe I'm going take Will and Henry and head back to Pennsylvania for a couple days, see my brother and his family. I think I just need to clear my head."

"You will be back though, right?" There's a soft plea in the question. Needy and hopeful.

"Yes," JJ assures her, stepping close and reaching out to take Emily's hand. She squeezes it tight between both of her own.

"I'm so sorry," Emily says again and this time she's the one with tears on her cheeks.

"I know and you know and we both know that we're not those people, Em. We're not. I know you. I know me. I would never do that to you. Never."

"But we did."

"We had no choice. It's time both of us stop fighting that. If we don't, he really does win and I won't…I can't let that happen. What we did in there, it has to mean something better. It has to mean we fought for each other."

"You think really think so?" She's suddenly hopeful.

"I remember you begging to take the beating for me," JJ tells her. "I remember you putting your arms around me."

"I remember you telling me to hold on," Emily offers.

They stare at each other for a long moment.

"Only a few weeks?" Emily asks again.

"Only a few weeks. Can you let Hotch know I'll call him tonight?"

"Sure. Will you call me when you get back into town?"

"Course. Em?"

"Yeah?"

"You really are a hell of a friend. I mean that."

"And I really don't know what I'd do without you, JJ. And I mean that, too."

They both share a light chuckle and then JJ turns and walks away.

**TBC…**


	9. Epilogue

**Author's Note: Here we are, folks - the end. This last bit wraps up the tale and concludes the healing process for our lovely ladies. I've truly enjoyed this one. CM was one of the lucky ones to have two fantastic strong women - shame that CBS screwed it up.**

**One small character note - the brother mentioned for JJ here is the same one used in my other story IN TIMES LIKE THESE.  
**

**Thank you for reading this and for your wonderful comments. They have all been appreciated. Please don't hesitate to let me know your thoughts now.  
**

* * *

She wants to keep her word and go home after two weeks, but it takes her longer than that. It's harder to leave the safety of Pennsylvania.

Harder than she'd ever imagined it would be.

She's always wanted more than the life of a small town girl.

She's always had bigger dreams and greater ambitions.

And yet, from the moment she had stepped off the plane and slid into her brother's strong country boy muscular arms, tears already cascading down her cheeks, she had wondered if it would really be such a horrible life.

Get married, have a family, stay home and raise them.

Simple, uncomplicated.

Generally devoid of sociopaths.

What makes her finally go home after five weeks, what makes her get finally get back on the plane and return to Virginia, is the burning desire within her not to let Garrett Holloway win.

If she becomes someone other than who she is – if she stops being JJ, the girl who fought like hell to get out of a small town - then he has won.

And she simply will not allow that.

Maybe it's stubbornness.

Maybe it's pride.

Whatever it is, it commands her and she obeys.

She hugs her brother tight and he holds onto her, whispering in her ear that she doesn't need to prove anything to anyone. He tells her that he'd love to have her nearby and wouldn't be it great for their kids to grow up together.

"Yes, it would," she answers him and she kisses him on the cheek. And then she steps away from him, reaches out and takes Henry from Will and finishes with, "We'll see you at Christmas?"

"No," her brother tells her. "I'll be there for the trial."

Her response is immediate, urgent and emotional (so much so that Henry begins to cry when he senses how upset his mother suddenly is). "No," she insists. "No way. Bad enough that my team will be there. Bad enough that I can't convince him(she looks directly at Will when she says this) not to, but there's no way I want you there. No."

"Jen, I already saw the tape," he tells her, watching as Will takes Henry back and tries to calm him down by whispering over and over that everything is okay.

"How?" she asks.

"I'm a DA. I called in favors. I wanted to know how to help you."

"Fine. Help me by not being there. It's going to be horrible and I don't want anyone there. Anyone."

She knows that she's being unreasonable. All of then – her team, her brother, Will - they just want to offer support. Their intentions are noble and lovely and they make her heart swell wonderfully, but her fear pushes back harder.

They may know what happened in that room, but they don't understand it.

They don't understand the moments between fear and rage and hate and love and everything in between.

They couldn't possibly understand how much hurt there still is.

"Jen," he protests.

He looks to Will for help, but all the former Detective can offer is a shrug. It's quite apparent that he's been fighting this same battle with her for weeks.

"I don't like this," her brother tells her. "This isn't right."

"No," she agrees. "It's not. None of this is. But it is what it is. And what I need from you is to understand that there are things that I can't deal with you hearing." She steps towards him and puts a hand on either side of his face. "Please."

He dips his head and nods. "One of these days, I'm gonna say no to you."

"Good luck with that," Will smirks.

"Fine, I won't go and I'll let you go back to the hell-hole that is Quantico, but you have to call me every couple of days. None of this twice a month crap. I want to hear from you, Jen. I want to know you're okay. Those are the terms. I don't hear from you and my ass is on a plane to you so fast, you won't know where I came from."

"I love you, too," she says, grinning at him.

* * *

She likes to think that each day is just a little bit better.

Each morning brings with it an obstacle to overcome and a milestone to reach.

One day involves being in a room with a lot of people without feeling as though she's second away from a horrifying (and embarrassing) panic attack.

The day after that, she's down in the gym with Morgan and they're sparing and she's able to throw a punch without feeling like she's about to throw up.

And then there's the first time she's in a room with a babbling sociopath. Rossi is with her, mere inches away, his eyes more on her than the Unsub

When she doesn't rip his throat out, she considers that a success.

None of her teammates choose to call out how badly she's sweating.

Not one of them says a word about the nail marks she's pressed into her palm.

No one asks her what she did in the bathroom for almost ten minutes after she left the interrogation room.

And Hotch doesn't say "good job" because he knows that she would think he's was going soft on her.

The second time they catch a case after she returns to duty, it's in Memphis and she asks to interview the Unsub alone. When he finally decides to confess, he tells her much he enjoyed his kills, how much he got off on the pain.

It takes everything she has not to completely melt down right then and there.

But she doesn't.

She leaves the room and she walks past the rest of the team, head held up high, eyes focused ahead and on nothing at all.

They don't ask her if she's all right even though they all desperately want (and need) an answer to that question.

She tells herself that if she can survive this case, the next one will be better just as this one was slightly better than the last.

It's a bit of a lie, but it's one she's willing to buy into.

And she does – completely.

It helps, even if only a little.

The third case _is _easier.

This time, when they catch the bad guy, the flush of emotion that goes her feels a lot like it used to before Holloway. Rage mixed with disgust.

And then the conscious decision to not spend another moment thinking about this horrible son of a bitch.

It almost works, too.

Almost.

Until the plane ride home where she's stupid enough to allow herself to drift off.

And then the nightmares hit.

She wakes with a scream and everyone is watching her, unable to pretend that they're not.

Derek has a look like he wants to put his arms around her.

Hotch is almost twitching, caught between some logic that tells him that he needs to force her go back on leave and a more emotional primal feeling, this one insisting that he keep her close by.

Close enough for the team to protect her.

She apologizes beneath her breath and then disappears into the bathroom where she stays for the rest of the flight, unable to face their looks.

When they disembark, she says to Hotch, "I can do my job, please don't take it away from. Please."

"I won't," he assures her. "But I am worried."

"I know. I promise you, though, it is getting better (this word had become something of a frantic mantra to her – something she has to believe). I just…I should have known better. The dreams, they come every night, but I can deal with them. I can."

"And when you can't?"

"I'm seeing the department shrink."

"That's not what I asked."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to promise me that if there comes a time when you can't deal with the dreams, you'll come to me. We've…I've already lost two of our own – Elle and Jason - because they couldn't deal with their trauma and you…" he pauses and thinks about his words. "…I don't think I could bear to lose you, too."

She's touched beyond words and so all she does is nod, her eyes glistening.

He does the same and then together, they walk towards where the rest of the team are waiting for them next to their cars.

* * *

She allows herself a few days to herself before she heads back to the office.

She remembers promising Emily that she'd call the moment she got back into town, but she can't quite find a way to dial the number.

It doesn't seem right that they should continue their healing over the phone.

So instead, she spends her first three days back in Virginia doing the simple things. Stocking up the pantry, buying new soap and shampoo and taking Henry shoe-shopping (which is pretty much worthless considering how much he dislikes shoes).

"Okay," Will says, coming out of the bedroom. "That's it."

"What?" she asks, looking up from where she's bent in front of the linen closet, carefully refolding everything inside of it.

"Who are you and where's my JJ?"

"What?"

"Look, honey, I love you dearly and I fully support whatever you need to do to help yourself in getting better, but this is madness."

"Will?"

"You're a mess, JJ. I love that about you."

"Still lost, honey."

He sighs and steps towards her. "In all of our time together, you have folded maybe one towel. When you do laundry, you shrink things. When you cook, you burn water."

"I do not!"

"You do and it's one of the most adorable parts about you. You can answer seven phones at the same time and arrange the travel plans for ten people, but you can't cook a can of soup. That's where I come in. Except now, you're infringing on my part." He leans down and picks up a horribly folded sheet and shows it to her. "Badly."

She grimaces. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Go back to work."

"I thought you didn't want me to."

"I don't really. I'd love it if you'd take a nice safe job behind a desk somewhere, but that ain't you, JJ. And that's not going to help you heal. Only going back and facing them – and Emily – will."

"I'm not sure I can."

"You did before. I thought you and her…"

"We did. I mean, we did, but that was different…"

"Because of the upcoming trial?"

"Trial is still a few months away," she whispers and there's dread in her tone.

"JJ?"

"How are we going to work together? Are we still going to be able to trust each other? It's one thing to say we do…"

"You won't know until you try," he tells her. "And the rest of the team will be there. They won't let either of you get hurt."

"They couldn't stop it last time."

She immediately regrets the words.

Before he can respond, she's up and on her feet.

"I need to run," she says and then like a tornado, she's ripping through her purse, looking for her iPod.

He thinks about stopping her, telling her to slow down and take a breath, but he knows better by now.

This isn't a woman who often says things she doesn't intend to.

She's far too disciplined for that.

Which means her words have exposed a soft spot in her armor, a bitter fearful truth. She is a rational woman and so she most likely knows that blaming the team for what she and Emily went through isn't fair, but fear is neither logical nor rational and mistrust tends to breed from unspoken doubts.

She's out the door within minutes and it's another three hours before she returns, soaked in sweat, her blonde hair sticking out in twelve different directions.

"Better?" he asks, rocking Henry against his chest.

"Yeah," she replies, taking her son from his father and kissing his forehead. She looks up at Will and smiles, "Thanks."

"For what?"

"For letting me deal with this my way."

He chuckles. "Not like I have a choice, JJ. My way is far different from yours. I'd much prefer we screamed and cried it out."

She chuckles and he gives her a look that tells her that yes, he knows that he's pretty much the woman in the relationship and as long as he's allowed to have his poker and beer nights, he's just fine with that.

"But," he continues, "Your way is different. You're gonna throw yourself at this thing until it breaks…"

"It won't break me," she insists.

"I know it won't," he soothes. "Just make sure you don't lose yourself in the process. And make sure you don't lose sight of the fact that you have people – including me – who are here to help if you need it."

"I won't," she promises.

"And JJ, you know that they were turning over hell to find you, right? You know that they didn't just let you two be hurt."

Her face flushes and she nods. "I know. I do. There are moments, though, where I wonder why sometimes we're so good at saving other people…"

"How often do you get to those other people before they've been hurt?"

"Not often."

"Exactly. They got there as fast as they could. They saved your lives."

"I know."

"Good. Now I'm gonna go cook us some dinner. You pop open a bottle of wine – I think you can do that without creating too much of a mess, yeah?"

"Sure," she replies, punching him hard in the shoulder.

"Ow," he chuckles and then heads into the kitchen.

She watches after him, thinking about where this all started.

Thinking about how angry and frustrated with him she'd been on the day she and Emily had been kidnapped.

His passive, easy, effortless ways had annoyed the shit out of her and it had caused them to argue, which had pushed him into taking Henry back to see his relatives in New Orleans.

And now, that calm that he has about him, it's a lifeline.

She's still not ready to slip on a ring, but with each passing day, she realizes that maybe there are parts of the small town girl lifestyle that aren't so bad.

Like the having a family part.

For the briefest of moments, panic surges through her.

She wonders if it was stupid to leave her brother's house in Pennsylvania.

They could have stayed there and been happy and safe.

Back here in Virginia, she knows what will happen.

She will return the team and Will and Henry will spend every night wondering if she's coming home to them.

She thinks about the team and wonders if she could walk away like Gideon and Elle had.

She chuckles then. "You're no quitter, Jareau," she mutters.

And that's just the truth of it.

She didn't come this far to quit now.

She finds a bottle of red wine and pops it open. She pours two glasses, sips from one, refills it and then brings both of them into the kitchen.

* * *

The next morning comes too quickly for everyone, but come it does.

She leaves Will and Henry each with a kiss and then drives the short way to the office, finding her old blue language as she gets caught in a traffic jam.

The security guard calls out a familiar greeting when she enters, tells her it's good to see her again. She answers in kind and then gets into the elevator.

The ride up is short and quick and then she's striding towards the glass doors that will lead her into the bullpen of the BAU.

She's a mixture of relieved and disappointed when she enters to find it empty except for a few analysts that are milling about.

Almost reluctantly, she reaches out for the arm of Agent Anderson and asks, "Where are they?"

"Agent Jareau," he greets with a wide and slightly awkward smile. "They're uh…up in the Round Table room."

"Oh," she says simply. "Okay, thanks."

She stares up and notices that indeed, the blinds are down, signaling that they're in mid-meeting. She takes a breath and heads up the stairs.

She knocks on the door and then enters.

"Hi," she says, waving ever so slightly. It's a Reid kind of gesture, but it's all she knows to do with her now trembling hands.

"JJ," Garcia greets, standing up quickly. This time – unlike last time – there's no hesitation and suddenly she's wrapped in Penelope's bear like embrace. "We missed you," she tells JJ. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too," JJ says and then separates herself. She turns to face the team. "If you don't mind an extra hand?"

"You're sure?" Hotch asks and there's a bit of wariness in his eyes, like maybe he's wondering if he can really handle having two broken agents on his team at the same time.

"I am," she tells him and she tries to convince him with her eyes that yes, she really is ready.

She's only moderately successful, but he accepts it just the same.

"Okay," he nods. "Sit."

She does.

He pushes a file across to her. "Three women in Colorado Springs."

She opens the file and it takes her a mighty effort not to drop it when she sees the horrible pictures inside.

She's seen pictures like these a hundred times, but these are her first reminders of the evil that men can do.

She wondered how she'd ever forgotten.

She realizes with a pang of bitterness that she never truly had.

If Hotch notices her reaction, he doesn't mention it. He pushes on with the details of the case, particulars that she's usually the one providing.

When she finally looks up from the file, she's relieved to see that no one is looking at her, measuring her, trying to decide if she's ready for this.

In fact, the only one looking at her is Emily.

She offers a small smile.

Emily answers it with one of her own.

It's not much.

It's something.

* * *

They don't say much to each other during the case in Colorado Springs. Small pleasantries and quick welfare check-ins, but nothing deep or emotional.

When Emily suits up in Kevlar, JJ stays behind and though neither of them say it, they're both quite relieved.

They both have trust issues that they're not yet ready to deal with.

That much is clear to everyone, but for now, no one says a thing.

It's not until the fifth case she's back for when they're asked to room together.

It's strange and weird and it shouldn't be because they've done this dozens of times before.

They'd even had a bit of a rhythm before.

JJ gets the bed on the left side, Emily the one on the right.

Emily showers first and lets JJ get a few minutes extra sleep in the morning.

And they both know that if someone has something on their mind, the other one isn't likely to sleep until it's talked out and maybe, just maybe, by talking it out, they'll crack a case or two.

It's always been easy and comfortable before.

It's not now.

Neither says a word as they crawl into their beds.

Neither mentions the fact that both are woken up by the other one's nightmare at least twice during the night.

In the morning, however, Emily showers first and doesn't wake JJ until she absolutely has to.

* * *

Every case brings them closer to the date of the trial.

They both know that they're just weeks away from being forced to deal with it.

They both know that Hotch is watching them carefully, waiting for the moment when he has no choice but to get involved.

He can feel that his team isn't quite right.

He can tell that they're just playing their parts.

They play them well – these two women, even half-broken(and he thinks half because they are healing everything but the rift between them), they're better than just about anyone.

They're professional, efficient and effective.

They catch the bad guys with relative ease.

And then they go their separate ways, each of them suffering the distance.

Each of them needing forgiveness that neither knows how to give nor accept.

They've each been seeing the department shrink Doctor Macy and his reports have been generally positive, but even he has warned that the gulf between them continues to exist and will likely continue to do so with assistance from a trusted third party.

He considers having Garcia force an emotional intervention, but then rejects the idea, knowing that both of these women are stubborn enough to stonewall if they feel like they're being manipulated into dealing with their issues.

No, he's going to have to be more clever about it.

Much more subtle.

JJ is a master of a manipulation.

Emily is cynical and wary.

It creates quite the headache for him.

A week before the trial, he makes a decision that even he isn't quite sure about and yet he knows it's the only way that he's going to force these two women to deal with their trust issues.

When the teams straps on their Kevlar to go after two young men who have been raping and killing high school girls in a small Michigan suburb, he tells JJ to suit up as well and then once on site, he directs JJ and Emily around the back.

He ignores the worried looks he gets from Rossi and Morgan.

He rationalizes that this is the only way they will learn to trust each other again.

They have to believe that the other one will have their back.

They have to know that the other one won't let them be hurt.

He remembers after the raid is over the old proverb about the path to hell being paved with good intentions.

Maybe he's thinking about it when Emily is yelling at him, telling him that it all could have gone so badly and did he know that one of the little bastards had had a gun at JJ's back and what if she hadn't been fast enough.

What if she had frozen and what if she had allowed JJ to be shot?

What then?

He uncharacteristically lets her yell at him, knowing instinctively that she needs this emotional catharsis. Just before she's about to break down and start crying, he says softly, "Stop."

And she does, her body ramrod straight.

"JJ is alive because of you. And you're alive because of her."

His words are so simple and so to the point.

She turns and exits the room.

He's not sure what he'd expected, but he hopes that wasn't the sum of it. He hopes desperately that this was a turning point.

He looks over at the calendar.

The trial is a week away.

* * *

The trial starts on a Monday, but neither woman shows up for opening statements.

They both dread Wednesday.

* * *

On Tuesday, the jurors watch several videos. The last one they see is the edited down video of JJ and Emily.

The judge has to provide several breaks for the members of the jury who find themselves overwhelmed by what they are saying.

When a woman in her sixties finally breaks down sobbing, he calls it a day.

Holloway watches, a small smile playing across his lips.

He can't wait for Wednesday.

* * *

Wednesday comes too quickly for everyone (except Holloway).

Across town from each other, two women dress in silence.

One gently squeezes her necklace – a final gift from a beloved sister. She thinks of family and friends and love and how very much one can really lose.

The other thinks of a child she never had and wonders – not for the first time and certainly not for the last – what her life had been like if she'd had the child.

It's Will LaMontagne who asks JJ if she's ready to go.

It's Aaron Hotchner who comes to pick up Emily.

Both women turn and offer the same assured smile.

Both women would normally be quick to insist that they don't need the protection of a male escort.

Both stay quiet, thankful for the companionship.

Team in tow (and flanking them), they meet at the door of the courthouse and exchange a soft hello.

It's JJ who reaches out for Emily's hand and squeezes it.

They walk in together.

* * *

It's hell.

For both of them.

Emily goes first and then JJ.

The DA leads them both through the events, stopping to dwell on the moments when Holloway gave them specific instructions.

He asks what they did, what it felt like and why they didn't stop.

He asks them about the aftermath.

His reasons are simple – he wants everyone in this room to know what a monster Holloway is. He wants the jury to understand just how much Holloway had destroyed these two women's lives.

He wants them to understand so that when he asks them to sentence Garrett Holloway to the death penalty, they will do it with a moment of guilt or sorrow.

And so he asks them about their nightmares and their inability to have truly pleasurable intimacy. He asks them about their friendship and they both reluctantly admit that they're not sure where it stands.

They're not sure if it can ever truly be repaired.

And just as everyone is beginning to feel quite certain that even though Holloway is certainly headed for a needle in the arm, he's won, Emily looks up at him and says quietly, "I'm not sure if anyone can ever come back from what we've been through, but I do know that as long we're alive, we still have a chance."

Her eyes lock with Holloway's and for a brief moment, she delights in the surprise in his eyes.

He could have pled out and probably gotten life in prison, but he had chosen to go to trial knowing that he'd most certainly get the death penalty all so that he could see the pain that he had caused his victims.

Well he had his moment and now it's over.

"And that alone makes playing his game – no matter how much extra pain and suffering it caused us - worthwhile," Emily finishes.

She meets JJ eyes, tries to make her point, prays to God that she's successful.

She remembers doing this several times during their captivity.

It had worked then. She hopes it's working now.

After a moment, JJ offers the slightest of smiles.

Emily exhales.

* * *

Things slowly get truly better after that.

At first, it's just a joking poker game on the plane, one where they're exchanging old taunts and accusing the other one of cheating. It's familiar and friendly and everyone watching (and trying not to show that they are) is reassured by it.

Then there's the night when after a case ends and they're still stuck in Texas because of an ice storm, they share a bottle of wine together. They talk about old childhood stories, share embarrassing moments (the kind you don't ever talk about unless you're pretty much plastered) and generally laugh together.

It occurs to Hotch that maybe these two don't need to talk it out, they just need to allow themselves to trust and move on.

And slowly, but surely, they do.

He stops worrying about them going out on raids together.

They stop wondering if they're going to let the other one down.

The nightmares take a long time to go away, but over the months, they go from an every night kind of even to a once a week midnight showing.

Old patterns re-emerge and on a rainy Spring morning, Emily enters the office with trays of coffee and hands one to JJ.

They both remember where this is all started, how a friendly and innocent journey to the local coffee shop has caused so much hurt and pain.

There's a moment when both of their hands are on the cup.

"Thanks," JJ says finally.

Emily smiles and nods, her lips curving upwards into a small smile.

And then she calls out to the guys, "Come and get it and Reid, you owe me for this – whatever this hell this is – the guy at the coffee shop looked at me like I was some kind of speed freak."

"You get his number?" Morgan asks, taking his cup and sipping from it.

She tosses him a look, he just winks.

"Got one for me?" Hotch asks, trying to pretend that he (like everyone else) hadn't been watching the moment between the two women.

"Of course," she replies, not even a little bit fooled. "Where's Rossi?"

"On his way in."

"He's got five minutes and then his cup is mine," Reid chirps.

"You don't need anymore caffeine," JJ laughs, swatting at him.

It's a nice moment, a good moment and though he has much work to do, Hotch stays a moment and watches it.

* * *

Six months after the trial, his team is running on all cylinders.

So much so that when he gets the call from the prison, he almost dreads relaying the information.

He calls them both into his office and asks them to sit.

"What is it?" Emily asks first.

"It's Holloway," he tells them. "He's dead."

"How?" JJ queries.

"He was beaten to death in the yard."

"Oh," she says simply. "How poetic."

"Are you two all right?"

"We're fine," Emily says. JJ nods her agreement.

Both make it clear that this is something that they don't want to talk about.

So he doesn't make them.

* * *

Neither can sleep that night, both unable to lie still in their beds.

It's Emily who finally pushes herself from her bed and wearing baggy clothes that would have made her mother have a heart attack, she makes her way to JJ's house.

She slams on the front door, knowing that she must look like a lunatic trying to break in.

When the lights go on, she has a moment of hoping that she's at the wrong house.

But she's not and it's JJ who opens the door.

"Em?"

She opens her mouth to speak, but before she can, JJ got her arms around her and they're both holding each other.

Holding on for dear life.

And maybe there are tears and half-gasped words, but if there are, neither of them knows it.

Holloway can never hurt anyone ever again.

It's over. The nightmare is finally over.

**-FIN.**


End file.
